


The Meaning of Submission

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, BDSM, Clubbing, Control Issues, Dom!Derek, Dom/sub, F/M, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent(past), M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Paddling, Past Abuse, Past Underage, Puppy Play, Spanking, Stiles calls him Daddy in some of the scenes, Trust Issues, dom!stiles, sub!Stiles, sub!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 23:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1620878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Derek's family died, he ended up in New York, where he met Kate Argent, Domme. Kate took advantage of sixteen-year-old Derek until he finally got out. Now a Dom himself, Derek doesn't give up control to anyone. Enter Stiles, the new sub looking for the perfect Dom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Submission

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally done! This is definitely one of my favorite roleplays that impalagirl and I have done, and all credit for the idea goes to impalagirl!

Derek glanced around the club; its decor hadn't changed much since he'd been here with his first—and last—Dominant, and even in the years he'd been a Dom himself, the club was still the same, especially the bracelets the patrons wore: Green for available, yellow for unsure, blue for subs searching for a long-term Dom, and red for no touching. The potential subs or Doms taking a night off wore the bands.

Derek was pulled from his musings by someone—a familiar someone—draping themselves over him. "Derek," Danny purred. "Been too long since you've been out to play."

Derek smirked, shifting so Danny was straddling his lap. "Been busy with research," he explained. "What about you?"

"Been trying to find a friend of mine a Dom to play with him," Danny answered, shrugging. "He wants one he knows he can trust, and I suggested you."

"What color?" Derek asked cautiously; since he'd become a Dom, he hadn't taken a sub on long-term. He hadn't wanted to. 

"Green or blue, he's not sure. Most likely green. The way he was talking, he just wanted to try one or two more intense scenes; he's still kind of new to our world," Danny answered. "So, can I tell him you'll do it?"

Derek mulled it over for a moment. "As long as he understands I don't do long-term," he said finally. Danny grinned brightly. 

"Awesome!" His grin turned into a smirk as he leaned forward, grinding down in Derek's lap. "So, have you found a playmate for the night yet?" he asked, his voice a low purr. 

Derek's answering grin was feral. "I believe I just did."

***

Stiles stood outside the club, trying to avoid the gazes of the people milling about. He was dressed kind of sluttily, in tight skinny jeans and a mesh shirt—typical twink attire—but that wasn't what was attracting the attention. Danny had picked up a green bracelet for him the night before, and it was this that was drawing the eye of quite a number of Doms. The heat of their gaze wasn't pleasant, though. Stiles was here to meet with a particular Dom, one whom Danny assured him was perfect for what he wanted, and as such he wasn't quite as available as the bracelet may suggest. Still, apparently this Derek character wasn't the committing type, didn't normally so much as agree to meet with a sub in advance, so a red bracelet hadn't been advisable. Stiles didn't want to appear to be taking liberties.

A pair of shoes came into view while he was staring at the floor, and he looked up somewhat apprehensively to find Danny grinning at him. Stiles grinned back. Danny was a good friend, and he was hot as hell, but neither could provide what the other was looking for—hence, Derek. "Oh my God, finally!" Stiles hissed. "It's fucking cold out here and I feel like all of these people want to eat me alive."

Danny grinned. "Dressed like that, I don't doubt it," he laughed, slinging an arm around Stiles's shoulders. "C'mon, Derek's waiting on us."

Stiles huffed out a laugh and let himself be led into the club. He'd been here once before, and hadn't even learned the name of the man he'd played with, but he already knew that he felt comfortable here. The people who ran the place knew what they were doing, and they kept a close eye on all but the most trusted of participants. According to Danny, Derek fell into that category.

As Danny led them through the club, fending off overly-eager Doms who wanted a piece of Stiles, he explained what was going to happen. "Derek's good; one of the best here, and believe me, I'd know. He'll take care of you, before, during, and after—the guy doesn't skimp on aftercare. His old Domme did. She was a bitch—her treatment of her subs got her banned from any club the owners could contact. Anyway, Derek learned what _not_ to do from her. He'll ask you what kind of scene you want to start with, limits, preferences, the standard stuff. Don't be afraid to be honest with him, okay? He's not gonna judge."

Stiles nodded. "Sounds good to me. Thanks for doing this, man."

Danny smiled. "No problem, dude. I think you and Derek will be good for each other. Speaking of—this is Derek."

Derek offered Stiles a smile and his hand. "Stiles, right?"

Stiles' jaw dropped. If Danny was hot, Derek was on _fire_ , and this motherfucking _god_ was all his for the evening? Working hard not to choke on his own spit, Stiles quickly collected himself and shook Derek's hand. "Uhh, right. Nice to meet you."

Derek chuckled at the look on Stiles's face. "Danny tells me you're looking to try a few new things, take it up a notch?"

Stiles swallowed, his throat suddenly bone dry. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, I haven't really done much in this area, but I've liked what I've tried, and I wanna do more. I mean, spanking and light bondage is great, but I want to try something more... intense, you know?"

Derek nodded, watching as Danny edged away towards another Dom who was eyeing him interestedly; several were eyeing Stiles as well, but when they realized he was with Derek, they quickly moved on. "We can start off with something small, work our way up. When do you need to leave, so I know how much time we've got?"

Stiles shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "It's not like I have a curfew. I can stay as long as I want."

Derek raised one eyebrow. "What's the latest you can leave for a class you can't miss?" he amended.

Stiles didn't even hesitate. "Two o'clock tomorrow afternoon," he answered promptly, his eyebrows raised to match Derek's expression. "My class isn't until three. I'll need at least three hours' sleep, though, so better make it ten AM."

Derek nodded. "So we've got until six for the scene," he surmised. "That should leave plenty of time for the aftercare—Danny told you I don't skimp, I hope?"

"Uhh, yeah, he said something about it." Stiles was actually kind of surprised that Derek intended to keep him around for that long, but he wasn't about to complain. He'd wanted an intense experience, after all. 

Derek caught the look on Stiles's face, and took a shot. "That doesn't mean I'm planning on drawing it out that long," he explained. "Danny told me you were still relatively new; I added a good bit of time just in case we needed it for various reasons."

Stiles let himself relax. "Okay. Okay, that's good." He had to admit that he was a little relieved, but he wasn't one to feel off-balance for long. He smirked at Derek, his usual sass coming back to him no problem at all. "So, what should I call you?" he quipped. "Sir? Master? _Daddy_?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "'Sir' is fine. But you don't have to call me that until we really get started." Derek gave Stiles a moment to think before he asked, "So, you still want to do this?"

Stiles nodded, meeting Derek's gaze head on. "Yeah. Yes, I want to do this."

Derek nodded. "Okay then. I've got a room here at the club—it's open all night. Follow me." Derek led the way through the crowd and down a hall, not looking to see if Stiles was following him—if the boy wanted this, he would have to come get it.

Stiles followed Derek obediently through the club, the back of his neck prickling with excitement. Whatever Derek had in mind, this was going to be awesome. The room, when they got there, was dimly lit, with a bed in the middle and what looked like a St Andrew's cross up against the far wall. If there were any toys or other kinds of equipment on hand, they couldn't be seen; Stiles suspected that the chest of drawers behind the door was the reason for such subtlety. He moved further into the room and turned to face Derek, fidgeting uncertainly. "Now what?"

Derek gestured to the bed. "Before we start doing anything, there's a couple of things we need to discuss—safewords, limits, preferences, that sort of thing." He sat down first, and patted the spot on the bed beside him.

Stiles was quick to join Derek, regaining his confidence quickly. "My safeword is 'lacrosse'," he answered with an easy grin, and lifted one shoulder in a half-assed shrug. "And where limits are concerned, well, as long as you don't draw blood..."

Derek raised one eyebrow. "How do you feel about watersports?" he deadpanned before growing serious. "Mine's 'triskele'; I'll only use it if I feel like we need to break the scene and you aren't saying anything, okay?"

Stiles' eyes went wide, and he instinctively spat out, "Lacrosse." He gave Derek a sheepish grin. "See? I will say something, I swear. But it's still good that you have a safeword, too." He hesitated, considering. "Do you seriously want to pee on me?"

Derek snorted. "No," he answered. "That's something that I, personally, feel is too intimate for what I do—maybe if I had a sub of my own, but that's not how I work." He smiled at Stiles, though, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Don't ever be afraid to safeword if you feel uncomfortable; I'll stop immediately. Now, what sort of treatment do you prefer?"

"Treatment?" Stiles asked curiously, his brow furrowing. He hadn't even been talking to Derek for half an hour and he was already getting the impression that there was a lot about this lifestyle he didn't know. But he wanted to learn.

"Do you prefer to be treated like a slave, a sub, or somewhere in the middle?" Derek explained. "Your answer basically determines how rough I can be with you and how much I can order you around."

Stiles thought about it. "A sub," he answered. "I mean, slave stuff might be good, but like you said, there's some stuff you need a full time Dom for."

Derek nodded, pleased that Stiles wasn't just jumping straight into the deep end. "Good. So, do you have any kinks or anything you really want me to do?"

"Not really," Stiles said thoughtfully. "Nothing too extreme, I guess. But whatever you do, can you... maybe blindfold me?"

Derek nodded. "I've got a few different materials you can choose from. Why don't we start with paddling and blindfolding? You said you enjoyed spanking earlier, right?"

Stiles grinned. "Oh yeah. Spanking is definitely what got me into this whole thing. The first girl I almost slept with smacked my ass a couple times while we were making out and I just sort of came, _everywhere._ It freaked her out and, needless to say, we did not have sex. But!" His cheeks flushed and he gave Derek an apologetic look. "You didn't need to know all that stuff. Sorry. Paddling sounds great."

Derek offered Stiles a comforting smile. "Don't be afraid to tell me stuff, okay?" he said gently. "Communication is key for these sorts of things. Is there anything else you think I should know, before we start?"

"I really want you to know that I have better stamina now, but other than that..." Stiles shrugged. "Nope, there's nothing."

Derek nodded, getting up and moving towards the chest. "I generally tell my subs that orgasms are a privilege, and thus must be earned. Do you think you could hold yourself from orgasm, or do you need a cock ring?"

"Um." Stiles hesitated. "Would I look really weak if I asked for a cock ring?"

Derek tossed a smile at Stiles over his shoulder. "Of course not. I actually like it when they do." He selected a few blindfolds of a softer material, a black oak paddle with a good grip, and a cock ring. "Select the blindfold you want, and then we'll start. Once we start, you'll address me only by 'Sir,' and I will address you only by 'boy,' do I make myself clear? When I tell you 'Mets won the championship,' the scene is over."

"Okay," Stiles said softly, standing up to inspect the blindfolds Derek had taken out. "I'll remember." He took his time, gently fingering each blindfold in turn, before he made his decision and held it out. "This one. Sir."

Derek nodded, holding the blindfold in one hand as he moved to put the others away. "Strip and kneel, boy," he ordered as he put the blindfolds away and double-checked the paddle, making sure it was still smooth, with no splinters or anything else. 

Stiles did as he was told, peeling his clothes off and folding them neatly before placing them on the floor beside the chest, where they wouldn't be in the way. Only then did he move to kneel before Derek, his gaze lowered respectfully. He was already half-hard, his cock throbbing with anticipation, but he resisted the urge to give it a few strokes. His body wasn't his own now; it was Sir's.

"Good boy," Derek praised, squatting down to fix the cock ring, testing its tightness before standing. "Now, you do not have permission to speak, but you may make noise—no words, expect for your safeword if you need it. Nod if you understand."

Stiles nodded, his gaze still fixed on the floor. "Good boy. Now for the blindfold." Derek tilted Stiles's head up so that he could tie the blindfold properly, checking to make sure the knot wouldn't slip. "Can you see anything?" Derek asked.

Pretty sure he still wasn't allowed to speak, Stiles shook his head, and let his tongue dart out to wet his lips. Asking for the blindfold had been the right thing to do: just having the simple privilege of sight revoked was enough to have his heart racing with excitement.

Derek smiled, running a thumb over Stiles's lower lip. "Shake your head yes or no: May I kiss you?"

As if that was even a question. Stiles nodded; Derek smiled and leaned forward to kiss Stiles softly. When he pulled back, he reached down and gave Stiles's cock a quick tug. "Bend over the bed, ass in the air," he instructed.

Stiles got to his feet and carefully felt out the edge of the bed before bending himself over it, spreading his feet apart so that his ass would be on display for Derek. A whimper almost escaped him when his cock brushed the duvet beneath him, but he managed to choke it back.

Derek could feel his cock hardening in his jeans at the sight of Stiles's ass on display for him, and his mouth nearly watered at the thought of what it would look like when he was done. Paddle in hand, Derek walked over to the bed and tenderly rubbed Stiles's back, working his way down until his hand was on Stiles's ass. He smacked it lightly before saying, "Since this is your first paddling, you may make noise—but no words, except for your safeword—for the first ten hits. After that, I want you to be as quiet as possible, and lie there and take it. Nod if you understand." Stiles drew in a shaky breath, suddenly nervous—but he nodded. Derek noticed the slight tension in Stiles's shoulders. "Remember, you can always safeword," he reminded Stiles gently. "I won't be mad or disappointed, and I'll stop immediately." He'd had a few subs do that to him before—in the middle of a paddling, they suddenly freaked out and safeworded, uncomfortable with being spanked with anything other than a hand.

Stiles nodded again. He knew that, of course he did. Danny wouldn't have recommended Derek if he wasn't a good Dom. But he didn't _want_ to safeword; he wanted to make Derek proud.

Derek rubbed Stiles's back soothingly before stepping back, laying the paddle on the bed beside Stiles. "I'm going to start with my hand—you don't have permission to make noise while I use my hand. When I start with the paddle, then you have ten strokes to make as much noise as you wish before you must be silent." Derek didn't wait for a response, instead starting by first rubbing and massaging Stiles's ass, getting the blood flowing, before the first hit landed with moderate force—he wasn't one of those Doms who just went straight into it, he liked to tease his subs a bit first.

The first hit wasn't so bad, and Stiles found himself leaning into the next one, hips canted back in anticipation of the third. They stung a little, and Stiles was savvy enough to notice that they were getting harder, but they felt good. His cock was definitely taking an interest in the proceedings, a blurt of precome beading at the tip. It was easy to stay quiet—for now.

Derek kept going with his hand, increasing the force at random intervals, and sometimes decreasing it, just to keep Stiles on his toes. Finally, when Stiles's ass was a dull red, Derek stopped, rubbing his hand to lessen the tingling. He picked up the paddle, adjusting his grip before landing the first hit.

Stiles didn't know why it came as a surprise, but it did, and it _hurt_. He cried out, completely unable to help himself, and then choked on the apology that automatically sprang to his tongue. He was allowed to make noise now, but he still wasn't allowed to speak.

Derek's cock twitched as Stiles yelped, and he smirked. "Good boy," he said absently, adjusting his aim for the next hit. It landed in a completely different place to the first one, and Stiles cried out again, the sound high and pathetic. Still, he wasn't giving up yet, and he wiggled his ass, enticing Derek to really lay into him this time.

Derek took the invitation, bringing the paddle down hard across Stiles's left cheek, landing a few hits before he checked Stiles again; the skin was an angry red, the flesh hot to the touch. "How you holding up? Still good?" Derek asked conversationally, rubbing one hand over Stiles's ass. Stiles hissed and arched into Derek's touch like a cat, chasing the pain. The paddling was unlike anything he'd experienced, and his ass was throbbing, but he loved it. He wanted more.

Derek smiled at how responsive Stiles was, and how good he was being; if Derek were to ever take on a sub of his own, he would pick one like Stiles. "Good boy. That was the fifth hit; better get all your noise out in the next five."

Stiles did, but not for the reason that Derek intended. He wasn't shouting or crying out in pain; he was moaning for more. He was loud, too, utterly shameless as he rocked back into each hit like the eager slut he wanted to prove he was.

Derek couldn't help the satisfied smirk crossing his face; Stiles was even better than Danny had told Derek he would be. "Look at you," Derek said, a hint of pride tinting his voice. "So fucking eager for it; natural sub, you are. Would you let me fuck your ass after I'm done spanking it?" Derek punctuated his question with a particularly hard hit, just skirting the edge of Stiles's buttock and upper thigh. "Let me fuck you with minimal prep?"

Stiles groaned and canted his hips, nodding desperately. He'd let Derek do pretty much anything at this point, but the idea of getting fucked while his cheeks were still burning in the aftermath of the paddling was particularly appealing. He suddenly wanted Derek to split him open on the huge cock he was sure to have more than he'd ever wanted anything.

Derek's cock jumped, and he had to hold back a groan of his own at Stiles's eagerness. "Maybe I shouldn't fuck you right away," he mused, carefully aiming the seventh stroke. "I've got several toys in the chest—maybe I should fuck you with one of those, get you begging before I fuck you with my cock."

Stiles whined in agreement and fought the urge to grind himself against the bed. He was so hard he was starting to worry that the cock ring would prove useless, and then what would Derek do to him? 

Derek chuckled at Stiles's whine, but he didn't say anything else until he had finished the ten strokes he'd allowed Stiles to make noise. "I'm going to spank you five more times—if you're good, and don't make any noise, I'll let you come before I fuck you. But if you make even a single sound, you won't be coming until after I do, understand?"

Stiles nodded once, and sank his teeth into his bottom lip. He didn't care if he drew blood; he was desperate to come. The next few blows were hard and punishing, but Stiles managed to hold his tongue despite how good they felt, taking each one like a pro. However, by the time Derek landed the fifth, Stiles was oversensitive and overwhelmed, and he let out a small whimper before he could stop himself. He froze, horrified. Had Derek heard?

Even if Derek had not heard the whimper, the sudden tension in Stiles's back and shoulders would have given it away. He made a disappointed noise, saying, "You almost made it, boy. You were doing so well."

Stiles choked back a sob, his whole body trembling with need. He was devastated, not only at having lost his chance to come but also at disappointing his Dom. That wasn't part of the plan.

Derek clucked his tongue disapprovingly, returning the paddle to the chest before sorting through it to find lube and a dark blue dildo. "I'm going to fuck you with my fingers and then this dildo before I fuck you myself. I'm not going to expect you to be silent, but I do expect you to be as quiet as possible, do you understand?"

Stiles nodded before hanging his head, ashamed of himself. This must be his punishment, but in dealing it out Derek was delaying his own pleasure as well as Stiles'. It made Stiles feel even worse.

Derek popped open the lube and dribbled some over Stiles's hole, using one finger to spread it around a bit before he started working one finger inside. "Fuck, you're tight," he muttered. "Ever had a cock inside this hole? Doesn't feel like it."

Stiles couldn't really answer that with non-verbal cues, so he took it as permission to speak. "Y-yes, Sir," he stammered, trying his best to relax. "M'not a virgin."

Derek dropped a stinging slap onto Stiles's ass with his free hand. "A headshake would have sufficed," he reprimanded mildly, still working Stiles open.

Stiles whimpered and pressed his forehead to the mattress, deeply embarrassed and even more ashamed. God, he must be an awful sub; Derek was going to laugh at him when this was over. But then Derek's finger nudged at his prostate and Stiles forgot everything but his need to get fucked and come.

Derek didn't say anything else until he was sure that Stiles was open enough for the dildo, and then he withdrew his fingers and wiped them off before reaching for the dildo. He hesitated, debating, and then instructed, "Roll over onto your back, spread your legs, and stay still." Derek got to his feet and moved to the chest to grab two lengths of a soft rope. 

Stiles did as he was told, straining his ears as he tried to work out what Derek was doing. It sounded like he was on the other side of the room, maybe getting the dildo? He didn't take long in returning, but Stiles didn't relax until he felt that Derek was close again.

Derek rubbed the inside of Stiles's thigh soothingly. "Good boy. Reach up above your head, get a good handful of the blanket in each hand, and don't let go." While Stiles was doing that, Derek tugged Stiles's ankles farther apart and started tying one to each bedpost.

Stiles jerked when he realised what Derek was doing, but he didn't protest; he just moaned. The few times he'd strayed into this territory, there had been bondage involved, and it was always hot as hell. Accompanied by the blindfold and the way Derek seemed determined to take him apart piece by piece? Stiles was pretty sure he was going to _die_.

When Derek was satisfied that the ropes were tight enough to keep Stiles's feet in place but not tight enough to cut off circulation, he reached up and tapped Stiles's stomach purposefully. "If you feel anything start to fall asleep, you let me know _immediately_ , understand?"

Stiles nodded, and flexed his toes to test the restraints. They didn't feel too tight, but they would definitely restrict his movement. A little thrill ran through Stiles at the thought that he was completely at Derek's mercy.

Derek smiled. "Good boy." He picked up the dildo and lube, slicking the dildo before he dragged the head up between Stiles's legs, rubbing it over his balls before dragging it back down to tease his hole. "Make sure you don't let go of that blanket," he ordered right before he started working the dildo into Stiles, twisting it slightly and working it in short thrusts.

Stiles gripped the blanket as tight as he could, using it to ground himself as Derek fucked the dildo into him. Being blindfolded somehow meant that every other sense was heightened, and feeling Derek's breath stutter across his skin, knowing—or at least assuming—that he was turned on by this, made it even better. Free to make noise again, Stiles let out the harsh pants and little whimpers he'd been holding back, and gave himself over to Derek.

Derek reveled in Stiles's submission; it was written clearly in every line of his body, every noise, every movement. As he worked Stiles over with the dildo, Derek smacked Stiles's ass lightly, keeping the flesh red, giving it no reprieve. He managed to hit Stiles's prostate, and he deliberately dragged the head of the fake cock over it again and again. 

Finally, Derek couldn't take it anymore; he stripped, kicking his clothes out of the way—but not before grabbing a condom from his wallet—and fucked the dildo one last time into Stiles. "Keep it there," he ordered as he rolled the condom onto his cock. He grasped Stiles by the hips, yanking his ass to the edge of the bed so that he could pull the dildo out and line himself up. "I want to hear you," he said, pushing in slowly—Christ, even after being fucked with the dildo, Stiles was still tight. "Everything—that means I want to hear your words, too."

Stiles barely heard the instruction, but he couldn't have held his tongue for the life of him when Sir—because he was definitely Sir now, not Derek—started to fuck him. It began slow, with the usual _yes_ and _more_ and _please_ , but when Derek picked up his pace, pounding into Stiles like he was there for nothing but his Sir's pleasure, Stiles fucking lost it. "Oh God, yes," he moaned helplessly. " _Yes_ , so good Sir, feel so good inside me, please Sir, please, I need— _Ah_! Need you to fuck me, _use_ me, _make me yours_..."

Stiles wasn't just submitting—he sounded like he'd hit subspace, and that just spurred Derek on even more; he'd only had a few subs reach that before. He fucked into Stiles as hard as he could, pounding him mercilessly until he finally came with a sharp jerk of his hips and a growled curse. He stayed in Stiles for a moment, catching his breath and composing himself, before pulling out and efficiently removing and discarding the condom. He walked back over to Stiles, looking him over appreciatively. 

When he was close enough, he reached out and held Stiles's cock in a firm grip, stroking slowly. "You've been a good boy for me," he praised. "And I promised you an orgasm—do you think you've been good enough for it?"

Stiles whined, the sound high and thin, and tossed his head. "I don't know, Sir, I don't know," he sobbed, distressed. "I tried, I tried _so hard_ , but I don't know."

Derek rubbed Stiles's stomach soothingly, shushing him gently. "You did very well," he reassured the young man. "You did try, you did your best. I think you do deserve an orgasm." He undid the cock ring, tossing it over to the chest—he would clean everything up after they were done with everything. Once the cock ring was off, Derek stroked Stiles's cock purposefully. "You've been such a good boy for me," he said gently. "Now I want you to do one more thing for me: come."

And Stiles came; he came so hard that he saw God. It seemed to go on forever, and if he wasn't so busy being liquefied by pleasure, he might have worried about making a mess of Derek. As it was, he didn't even think of it when it was over—he just collapsed bonelessly against the mattress, breathing hard and trembling all over.

Derek had expected an intense orgasm, so he'd made sure he wouldn't get any more messed up than necessary. He stroked Stiles through the orgasm, and when Stiles collapsed, Derek gave him a few moments to catch his breath before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Stiles's forehead. "Mets won the championship," he said, enunciating clearly and firmly. 

For a long moment, Stiles struggled to remember what that meant, but then he forced himself to release the grip he had on the blanket and sat up, pushing the blindfold out of the way to blink blearily at Derek. "It's over?" he asked, and holy shit, his voice was wrecked. He didn't want it to be over. He felt shaky and strange, kind of floaty, and it was really hard to fight his way to the surface of the submissive mindset he'd entered during the scene. What was he supposed to do now?

"Hey, easy," Derek said, supporting Stiles as he laid him back down. "Lay down, okay? I need to get you untied, and grab a couple of things from the table next to the bed." He set to work quickly untying the knots that held Stiles's legs apart, rubbing where the ropes had been to help encourage the circulation to keep flowing. The ropes joined their clothes in a corner of the room, and he grabbed the washcloth on the bedside table, dipping it into a bowl of water and wringing it out before carefully cleaning Stiles up, making sure to murmur soothing words to him as he did so. "Water, chocolate, and a blanket," Derek said, grabbing the items from a drawer in the bedside table. He helped Stiles up to the head of the bed, and wrapped him in the blanket before pulling him close and offering him the bottle of water. "Small sips," he instructed.

Jesus Christ, Danny had been right when he'd said that Derek didn't skimp on aftercare. No one had ever treated Stiles like this after a scene, but then, he'd never participated in a scene like that before. He leaned gratefully against Derek and did as he was told, sipping the water slowly. It was cool, and soothed his throat, which he suddenly realised was raw—had he been screaming? "Thanks," he rasped when he'd had enough, turning his head away and into Derek's chest. He was still shaking.

Derek rubbed Stiles's shoulder through the blanket. "Here, eat a piece of this; it'll help with the shaking," he said gently, offering Stiles a piece of the chocolate. "Also got some granola bars if you want some."

"Maybe later," Stiles mumbled, chewing carefully. Maybe it was the sugar, or maybe having to eat just gave him something else to focus on, but he felt a little better, like he was starting to come down from a high. Or up from a low. He hadn't decided yet. Whatever it was, though, it brought a new clarity, and Stiles used it to look back on what had just happened. He felt sick when he realised how bad he'd been for Derek, how he'd let him down.

Derek wasn't sure what it was that made him do so, but he pulled back just enough that he could look Stiles in the eye. A slight frown flickered across his face before he schooled his expression into something more neutral. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, careful to keep his tone gentle and his touch soft as he reached up to frame Stiles's face. "What is it?"

Stiles couldn't meet Derek's gaze, but he was helpless to do anything but lean into his touch. "I messed up," he croaked. "I made a noise when I wasn't supposed to, and I spoke. You must think I'm so pathetic."

"Stiles, no," Derek said gently, his thumbs running over Stiles's cheek. "I don't, believe me, I don't. I was hoping you could do it, yes, but I wasn't asking it of you because I expected 'perfection' or something like that. This was your first time doing a more intense scene; I knew you'd make some mistakes, and I'm _not_ disappointed, or mad, or whatever else you may think I'm feeling. Just the opposite, in fact; I am so, so proud of you—you were even better than I was hoping for."

"Really?" Stiles asked, and he hated how much hope he'd managed to put into just one word. "I just didn't want to let you down."

"You didn't," Derek said confidently, offering Stiles a reassuring smile as he pulled the younger man back against him, settling both of them more comfortably. "You want the honest truth? That was one of the best scenes I've ever done. Definitely one of the most satisfying, if not the most. You were amazing—and that bit, right after I started fucking you? I'm pretty sure you hit subspace."

Stiles blinked. "Subspace? Is that what that was?"

Derek nodded. "Subspace is basically where you totally give up control—you become totally submissive, and you truly enjoy submitting. I've only had a few subs reach it before while I was playing with them; it's hard to reach for a lot of new subs."

Stiles shrugged. "I trusted you, I guess," he mused. "It felt really weird, especially after the scene ended. Like I wasn't ready to come back, y'know? But... it was good. I felt free."

Derek smiled, rubbing Stiles's back rhythmically. "Yeah, I know. I never experienced it, but everyone that I know that has—Danny has; he was one of the subs who reached it while I was playing with him—says they loved it."

"I wasn't expecting it," Stiles admitted. "I've never had that happen before. But I guess now I know what was missing from all those other scenes." He smiled. "Thank you for showing that to me."

"Thank you for letting me," Derek said sincerely, offering another piece of chocolate to Stiles. "I meant what I said; that was one of the best scenes I've ever had the pleasure of playing."

Stiles blushed and snuggled closer. The rest of their time together was spent in much the same way, with Derek holding and reassuring Stiles, answering all of his questions. Stiles ate all of Derek's chocolate and one of his granola bars before he felt like his knees would support him if he tried to stand up, but even then Derek kept him on the bed, and they lapsed into easy conversation. It was what he needed, and it was about two hours in total before he felt ready to leave. 

"What time is it?" he asked softly. He was sitting across from Derek on the bed now, instead of in his arms. "I feel like it's really late. Or maybe early."

Derek reached over and fished in one of the drawers for the portable clock—he didn't like having one in plain sight during a scene. "It's a bit after two in the morning," he answered. "So I guess it's rather early."

Stiles made a surprised sound. "I guess I'd better go."

Derek shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, you're probably going to want as much sleep as you can get," he answered. "And you're also going to want some painkillers for your ass tomorrow," he added, chuckling softly. "Did you drive here?"

Stiles got off the bed and started to get dressed. "Yeah, I've got no problem getting home," he answered. "Do you want a ride?"

Derek followed suit, pulling his own clothes on as he spoke. "Thanks, but I'm good; I still need to check over the equipment, make sure nothing happened to it or anything like that."

Stiles shrugged and pushed his feet into his shoes. "Okay. I guess I'll see you around?"

"Probably," Derek said, smiling at Stiles. "You'll probably run into me at one of the campus coffee houses or something, now that you know what I look like."

That wasn't quite what Stiles meant, but he smiled like it was. They said goodbye not long after that, and as Stiles made his way out of the club, he reached a decision. He had to get Derek to take him on as a permanent sub.

***

Danny made his apologies to the Dom he'd been chatting up, ducking out from under the man's arm in order to chase down a very familiar head of hair. "Dude!" he hissed, grabbing Stiles by the arm. "What the hell are you doing here _again_?" This was the fifth night in a row that Danny had seen Stiles here, but the weird thing was that he always brushed off every Dom that showed an interest in him. Like he already had one in mind.

"Am I not supposed to be here?" Stiles asked evasively. "Is it a crime now?"

"No, but you never play with anyone, not since Derek. Man, _please_ tell me you're not angling for him," Danny said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You know he doesn't do long term; hell, he barely even plays with the same person more than once."

Stiles couldn't even hope to argue; he'd been made straight away. "I know," he groaned. "Every time I catch his eye he just grabs the nearest sub; it's like he's scared of what will happen if he plays with me again. But he _wants_ to, I can tell. He said our scene was one of the most satisfying he's ever done. Why is he avoiding me?"

Danny sighed. "Look, Derek doesn't do long-term because of his old Domme. He's got this thing about control—he can't give any of it up. The only reason he's played with me as many times as he has is because I'm more of a slave than a sub—I _love_ being told what to do. I love being controlled. I know he said it was great, with you, but that's also why he's not going to play with you, not for a while, if ever."

"But what's easier to control than consistency?" Stiles argued. "If he takes me on permanently, he'd be able to control everything. I don't want any other Dom, Danny. It was _so good_ with him. And if he liked it too, don't you think he'd give me a shot?"

"You'd think," Danny muttered. "Look, Stiles—it comes down to trust. He trusted his old bitch of a Domme, and she ran roughshod over him. He's afraid of having someone trust him to take care of them; he's afraid he'll let them down or inadvertently hurt them."

"Well he can tell me that himself," Stiles huffed, and he pushed away from Danny to force himself through the crowd, towards Derek.

Danny watched him go and debated stopping him, but decided against it. Maybe Stiles would be good for Derek. 

***

Derek didn't see Stiles's approach, though he was looking for it. He wasn't sure why, exactly—though he told himself it was because he wanted to be ready to grab the nearest available sub to use as a shield. The rest of him knew that that was a pile of bull, and knew it was because he wanted to see Stiles again; even if he would ultimately end up rejecting the younger man, he still wanted to see him again. There was something indefinable about Stiles that drew Derek in.

Stiles approached Derek from behind, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey," he said, grinning, when Derek turned. "How's it goin'?"

" _Jesus!_ " Derek hissed, jumping. "Fuck, what are you, part cat? Christ." He took a breath, trying to calm his racing heart and climbing excitement. "Hey. It's been going... good. Except for this sub who appears to be stalking me." Derek raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Stiles's grin widened. "Not a thing," he teased. "See, I've got my eye on this Dom, but every time I get anywhere near him, he just grabs a sub out of nowhere. One time he even picked one he'd just rejected. Would _you_ know anything about _that_?"

Derek tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Y'know, I think I might. Seems like he's not interested in taking a sub of his own, but this other sub—who I'm beginning to suspect is you—won't take the hint, even though he's been told that multiple times."

Stiles shrugged, the very image of innocence. "I don't want to be taken on long-term," he lied. "I just wanna play."

Derek raised one unimpressed eyebrow. "Really? So _that's_ why you've been turning down every other Dom who's shown an interest?"

"I wanna play with _you_ ," Stiles clarified, suddenly serious. "I've never felt anything like that before. I just... I wanna feel it again."

Derek gestured around the club. "There are plenty of Doms who could get you to that feeling again."

Stiles fixed Derek with a hard look. "None of them look at me like you do."

Derek was silent for several long minutes. "I don't do long-term," he said finally. "Not even for you."

The smile quickly returned to Stiles' lips, and he took Derek's hand. "We'll talk about that later," he promised, and tugged him toward the room they'd used last time.

"Whoa, hey," Derek protested, but he didn't have the heart to yank his hand from Stiles's until they were back in the room. "What do you think you're doing?" he snapped. "I didn't agree to anything. That comment wasn't saying I'd be willing to go one more time."

"Wasn't it?" Stiles asked innocently, smiling. But that wasn't the way to get what he wanted. If what Danny had said was true, then Derek was all too used to being manipulated by his partners. Stiles couldn't do that to him. He sighed. "If you don't want to, then fine, I'll go. It's not a problem."

Derek searched Stiles's face intently before he replied, "I do want to, and that's the problem. You hounded me for five days after the first time, even though you knew before we even started that I don't do long term and I rarely play with someone more than once. I don't want to seem like I'm encouraging you to keep pursuing me when I won't be able to commit to you."

Stiles flushed, feeling a little guilty. Maybe he'd been manipulating Derek this whole time; maybe Derek sensed it. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to put pressure on you. The first time was just so incredible, and it's always a risk, y'know, playing with different Doms. I guess I know I feel safe with you." He frowned. That wasn't really an excuse.

Derek sighed. "You're friends with Danny, right? Did he tell you why I've played with him so often?"

"Yes," Stiles answered simply. "Because he'll let you control him completely."

"And he's not attached to me," Derek elaborated. "I like control, and I like _to_ control, but the biggest thing is he doesn't depend on me like a full-time sub would. I don't know that I would do well with that, not with the only experience I've had in a long-term contract."

Stiles shook his head. "I don't want that from you," he said, and it wasn't even really a lie. "I'm only just starting out; I don't know that I'm ready to enter into a long-term contract. That kind of commitment is huge, and I like you, and I trust you, and what we did together the other night was goddamn _explosive_ , but I don't know you nearly well enough to just hand you the rights to myself. All I'm asking is that we do one more scene together, and after—only if you want to—we maybe get to know each other a little better."

Derek thought Stiles's proposition over, his determination wavering. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, with Stiles; he liked the kid well enough, and he seemed like a good guy, one who would be honest with Derek. "Okay," he said finally. "One more scene and then... we'll see."

Stiles beamed, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Then I guess I'm all yours for the night... Sir."

***

Afterward, Derek had Stiles wrapped in a blanket again, and laying with his back to Derek's chest as he offered Stiles a bottle of water. "You good?"

Stiles nodded, accepting the water and sipping slowly. Although this time had been just as intense, just as amazing as last time, he'd found it easier to come back to himself after, like he knew what to expect and was better prepared. Still, he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to snuggle with Derek; it might be his last chance. "Are you?" he asked tentatively.

Derek took a moment to think; the scene had been just as good as last time, and Stiles had followed Derek's orders almost perfectly. He was still a bit wary, but he felt like he could trust Stiles more than he'd felt like he could with any other sub. "Yeah, I'm good," he murmured, pulling Stiles a bit closer to him.

"Good," Stiles murmured. "Do you want to talk about..." He skipped a few words, not wanting to give voice to them in case he made Derek uncomfortable, and then picked up his sentence again. "Or not?"

Derek shook his head. "Not yet," he said quietly. "After, when we're both back to ourselves."

Stiles nodded, and rested his head against Derek's chest. He felt warm and safe, grounded, and he closed his eyes, hoping that Derek would choose to take a risk and keep him.

It took about the same time as the first for Derek and Stiles to feel completely in control of themselves once again, but once they did, Derek was the one to broach the topic of continuing to play with each other. "I like doing scenes with you," he started, "but I haven't done anything remotely resembling 'committed' since I started playing a Dom."

Stiles thought about that for a moment before responding. "Would you rather keep it that way, or are you considering trying something else?" he asked, careful to keep any inflection out of his voice. He didn't want to pressure Derek any more than he already had.

"I'm... considering trying something else," Derek said finally. "I don't want long-term, but... I would be willing to play exclusively with you for a few months."

"Is that possible?" Stiles asked, his gaze flickering up to meet Derek's. "I didn't think people did that."

Derek nodded. "There are a lot of people who go into a trial period of sorts; they find someone they like to play with, and they set up a contract stating their limits, rules, and how long they'll play together before they decide whether or not the relationship has a chance of working for a longer period of time."

"And you want to do that?" Stiles pressed, just for clarity. "With me?"

Derek nodded. "Maybe not particularly with the aim of going for a long-term relationship after the contract, but—You're not completely annoying; I suppose I could bear playing exclusively with you for a few months." He offered Stiles a cheeky grin to reassure the younger man that he was teasing.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I feel so privileged," he drawled, but honestly, it was true. No one had played with Derek exclusively before—not since he'd broken his contract with his Domme. Stiles was practically glowing with pleasure at the thought that he was the one Derek had chosen to break the ice with. "I guess this means we have to start thinking about a contract?"

"Yeah. Here, give me your number." Derek grabbed his phone from his pants. "I'll send you a text so you have my number, and we can meet sometime to start hashing out the details."

"Sure." Stiles took the phone and saved his number to Derek's contacts, putting a little winky face next to his name because Derek would probably hate it. He handed the phone back with a smile.

Derek rolled his eyes when he saw the winky face, but he didn't change it. He fired off a quick, simple text to Stiles's phone before putting his away once more. "So. Anything else you wanted to talk about tonight?"

"I don't think so," Stiles answered carefully, snuggling up to Derek once more. "What about you?"

Derek shook his head, wrapping his arms around Stiles. "No, I don't either."

"Should I go?" Stiles asked quietly. He didn't want to; he wanted to stay right here, in Derek's arms, but he didn't want to push things, either.

Derek shrugged one shoulder. "You don't have to," he returned, his voice just as quiet as Stiles's. Truth was, he half-hoped Stiles would stay; it was easy, natural, with him, to be close and hold him.

Stiles closed his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Then if it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay."

***

Derek had classes the next day, but after they were finished, he texted Stiles. [Meet me at the coffee house by the observatory; people there know about me, won't get any awkward looks if they overhear anything.]

Stiles was still in class when he got the message, but he texted Derek back to say that he could meet him in an hour. It turned out to be more like an hour and a half, even though Stiles ran to the coffee shop. He crashed through the door, almost upsetting the nearest table, and was already gasping out apologies when he fell into the seat opposite Derek. "I'm so sorry," he panted for the third time. "My professor held me back after class to talk about a paper. I swear I could've killed him."

Derek grinned. "It's fine," he reassured Stiles. "Hey, Erica!" he called, waving the blonde barista over. "Do you know Stiles?"

"No, I don't." Erica swooped in from somewhere behind Stiles and put a mug on the table in front of him, filling it with steaming coffee before topping up Derek's. "But he's a cutie. You guys on a date?"

Stiles looked at Derek uncertainly, even as he reached for cream and sugar. "Umm."

"Not exactly," Derek said. "Testing the waters, sort of."

Stiles blushed, ducking his head to hide his smile, and as such missed the meaningful look on Erica's face. "That's great, Der," she said sincerely, touching Derek's shoulder. "It's been too long since I saw you in here with even a study partner. This one's on me, okay?"

Derek smiled gratefully at Erica before turning to look at Stiles. He chuckled slightly at the flush staining Stiles's cheeks. "Told you people knew about me here," he said, grinning at the younger man. 

"You did," Stiles conceded, smiling. He finished stirring sugar into his coffee and raised the mug to his lips, pursing them so that he didn't scald himself as he took a sip. A glance over his shoulder told him that Erica was serving another customer, and he carefully set the mug down again. "So. You wanted to talk?"

Derek nodded, taking a quick sip of his own coffee. "I figured we could at least start figuring out what exactly we want the contract to cover."

Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "I don't really know what contracts like these are supposed to be like," he confessed, his gaze flickering to Derek's and then away. "And I guess you don't either. But I did some research? I guess the first thing we have to pin down is the timeframe. You said you didn't want long-term, but we should probably be more specific than that."

Derek chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. "Maybe three or four months, about that long? You're right that I don't have much experience with this; my last relationship... was really unsafe."

Stiles winced, nodding. "Okay, four months," he said decisively, and then grinned. "I have a thing for even numbers." He took another sip of his coffee and just held the mug, needing something to do with his hands. "So what next? Maybe how that's gonna work. Like, would I come stay with you? Would I have to come when called? Would we have set days and times to meet? And how would we factor our schoolwork into that?"

"Schoolwork comes first," Derek said immediately. "As for the rest... Am I right in thinking your friends don't know you're a sub?"

Stiles shook his head. "I mean, I don't think they'd care, but it's definitely something I'm keeping to myself. At least for now," he explained. "Is that okay?"

Derek nodded. "I was asking so I could get an idea of how much time I could require of you, and how much I could request," he clarified. "Do you think you could get away with spending the weekends with me for the four months? I've got an apartment close to campus."

"I can do that," Stiles agreed readily. "As long as you give me at least a few hours to do work."

Derek nodded. "Of course. When you're in my apartment, we won't constantly be in a scene—I just want to make that clear. I thought maybe we could keep using the same phrase to end the scene, but come up with another way to start one, to make sure we're both in the mood for one, you know? And I've got my own schoolwork to work on as well."

"That's a good idea," Stiles said. "So, weekends for definite, and I can probably come over sometimes during the week, too, but we shouldn't put that in stone just in case."

"Definitely not," Derek agreed. "During the week, if I text you with whatever we end up going with to start a scene, then I won't be _expecting_ a yes, okay? I'll be hoping for one, but if you can't, then I'm perfectly fine with that. And even on the weekend, if you don't want to do a scene, you do have the option to tell me 'no'; I just wanted to make that clear."

"I understand," Stiles promised, meeting and holding Derek's gaze. "And the same goes for you, too."

Derek smiled. "Good. Now, if you want to, we could continue doing like we did the last times—use nicknames during the scene, to help differentiate the scenes from real life."

Stiles nodded. "Okay. Are we sticking with what we used last time?" He'd liked using 'Sir' and 'boy', but they'd felt kind of impersonal—like Derek used them with every other sub he played with, too. Stiles wanted desperately to be different from them.

Derek was thinking along the same lines as Stiles. "I don't think so; this isn't just us playing at the club anymore."

Stiles beamed. "Okay, well, we'll think about it," he suggested. "For now let's talk about stuff we actually know. When we were talking about it at the club, you mentioned limits?"

"Yes, I did; do you have anything that you absolutely will not do or anything you might do under certain conditions?" This step was especially important to Derek; he'd seen far, far too many BDSM relationships go awry because a Dominant ignored their submissive's limits, even the soft ones, and the submissive got hurt.

Stiles had thought about this; he was ready. "I don't want you to make me bleed," he answered promptly. "I'm... really not into blood play at all. Or knife play or anything like that. I don't think I want to be in bondage overnight or in public. Also I found a sleep suit thing on the internet with a hood and everything, and it scared the shit out of me, so please don't put me in one of those. As for stuff I might do..." He sighed. "I know you mentioned watersports the first time we played together, and if you  _really_ want to, I'd be willing to try it, but I'd reserve the right to not do it again if I didn't like it."

Derek nodded. "Those are all perfectly reasonable, and honestly, they fall in rather neatly with my own; I want a submissive, yes, but I also want you to still have some independence." He was quiet for a moment, sorting his thoughts out before he told Stiles his limits. "I don't like drawing blood, or anything that will leave a permanent mark. To me, that's a sign of ownership, and while some people might get off on it, I... don't want to inflict that feeling on anyone. Bondage is all well and good, but there's a time and a place for it, in my opinion, and once the time is done, then the bondage needs to be done as well. I won't put you in the sleep suit; I don't even see why that would be attractive to someone in the first place, but I can definitely understand why it would be frightening. I don't do humiliation, but if you were interested in it, I would like to do some minor things; get you to leave a plug in all day, or something like that. Maybe once we get to know each other better, we could try watersports if we decide that's something we _both_ want, but I really wasn't serious when I suggested it. I also won't do a scene if I don't have at least some idea of how you want it to go down, whether you want something long and drawn out, or just something quick, to relieve tension or something like that."

Stiles smiled. "I'm down with all of that," he assured Derek. "Especially the part where we discuss a scene first. I wouldn't like it if you sprung something new on me while I was in subspace; I'm not sure I'd be able to say no."

Derek shook his head emphatically. "I would _never_ do that," he swore. "I've seen subs go so deep into subspace that they would try to choke themselves to death if their Dom asked them to. I know how dangerous subspace can be."

Stiles' eyes widened, even as his cheeks flushed with heat. "I really don't want that to happen," he mumbled, not meeting Derek's gaze. "But, umm. Breathplay. Safe breathplay. Might be something I'm into?"

Derek grinned. "We can try that," he promised. "But not right away."

"Sounds good," Stiles agreed, nodding. "So, what now?"

Derek considered that for a few moments. "Why don't we take a little while, see if we think of anything else to discuss, and then we'll meet up again to write the contract?" he suggested.

"Awesome," Stiles said, draining the dregs of his coffee. "I guess I'll see you soon?"

Derek nodded. "Definitely."

***

After a week apart, they met up again to review their contract. Derek had drawn it up, based on a pretty solid template a fellow Dom had provided him with, and everything they'd discussed last time was on there plus some other things. A list of promises from Derek, mostly to take care of Stiles emotionally and physically during their time together, and a list of expectations for Stiles. These were more specific, instructing him to always be completely open and honest with Derek as well as detailing how he should behave during a scene unless told otherwise. The only thing Stiles disagreed on was the dates. Derek had put down the date that they were meeting on, a Monday, as the date their contract would start, and had counted forwards exactly four months to find the date it would come to an end. After Stiles pointed out that they wouldn't actually be starting anything until the coming Friday, when they were due to spend their first weekend together, Derek conceded and changed the dates. Derek had also left blank spaces where the contract was supposed to indicate what they would call each other and how they would start a scene, and even though they both signed their names at the bottom, they still didn't fill those in. That was something they could add in later, once they'd played together again and had found names and a method that felt comfortable. After a good couple of hours of discussion, coffee, and looks from Erica that were equal parts calculating and smug, they parted ways with promises to meet up soon. Stiles felt excited, and eager to get started, but he had a feeling that the contract was a dead weight in Derek's coat pocket. The Dom probably needed some more time to get used to the idea of having an exclusive sub.

Whether or not that time was necessary, Derek didn't call to back out of the contract or postpone their plans, and so Stiles didn't regret not pushing for something to happen sooner. He found himself sitting in a small café with Scott and Danny on Friday afternoon, fighting the urge to impatiently check his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Why had he agreed to go to lunch when Scott asked this morning, anyway? Derek's last class got out at two, and Stiles' got out an hour earlier - he could be on his way to Derek's right now; he could be getting closer and closer to subspace in the time it was going to take him to convince his friends that no, they didn't need to order a second slice of chocolate cake, even though it was really good here. Frustrated, Stiles gave in and checked his watch, and yep, another minute had passed. _Great._

"What's your deal?" Scott asked around a mouthful of whatever the fuck he'd ordered today. "You got someplace to be or somethin'?" 

Stiles sighed. "Yeah, actually. I'm supposed to be meeting up with a friend in like twenty minutes." He shouldn't have said anything; as soon as the words left his mouth, Scott's head perked up in interest.

 "A friend? What friend?"

 Stiles thought fast. "Just a friend. He's housesitting and wanted some company, so I said I'd stay with him for the weekend."

 Scott raised his eyebrows. "Well it's the first I'm hearing of it. What's his name?"

  _Fuck._ Stiles could feel Danny's gaze on him, but he couldn't lie about this. It would be too easy to slip up in the future if he gave the wrong name now. "It's Derek."

Normally, Danny prided himself on being collected and in control of himself unless he was in a scene—but Stiles's statement, that he was _friends_ with Derek, and _spending the weekend with him_ , completely threw him for a loop. After hastily clearing his airway of the nearly-choked-upon chocolate cake, he blurted, "You got Derek to _commit_?!"

_Seriously?_ Stiles wanted to slam his face into his own chocolate cake. "Yes," he answered slowly, turning to stare at Danny. _Go with this,_ his gaze said, _or I'll kill you._ "I got him to commit to _housesitting_."

Danny opened his mouth to say something further, but then thought better of it. "Right," he said, his voice sounding vaguely faint. "Good for you."

"Good for whoever he's housesitting for," Scott piped up cheerfully, completely oblivious to the sudden tension at their table. "Go you, Stiles. I bet they're relieved they don't have to find someone else."

Scott McCall had been Stiles' best friend since they were in diapers, and they were like brothers to each other, but in that moment Stiles had never wanted to kiss anyone more.

***

Derek looked at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. "Bit eager to get here, were you?" he asked, grinning. Stiles's knock had been so rapid-fire that Derek had half-thought someone had been opening fire on his door with a semiautomatic. He wasn't going to lie to either himself or Stiles and say that he had been looking forward to this weekend with no reservations whatsoever, but he was looking forward to it nonetheless; he liked Stiles, liked spending time with him, and he was interested in seeing how Stiles might act in a more domestic setting as opposed to a club setting.

"More like pissed off that I wasn't here already," Stiles huffed, entering the apartment when Derek stepped back to let him in. "I wanted to be waiting for you when you got here, y'know, make a good first impression—which is ridiculous 'cause you already know me but this is the first time we've seen each other since we signed the contract so it _kind of_ counts, and I wanted to prove to you that I can be a good sub so you don't back out before our time's up, but fucking Scott and fucking _Danny_ —who knows now, by the way, sorry if you didn't want him to—had to order a fucking _third_ slice of chocolate cake and—" He cut himself off, realising that whatever good impressions he'd wanted to make, he was definitely doing the opposite right now. He gave Derek an awkward smile, flustered. "Sorry. I meant, hi."

Derek raised one eyebrow. "I'm gonna take that little rant one item at a time," he informed Stiles before pulling him in for a quick hug. "One: hi; two: I'm not going to back out of this before our time is up, but I appreciate the thought that you wanted to make a good impression; three: I don't mind if Danny knows; and four: if it's that chocolate cake from Giorgio's, I don't blame them for wanting several slices."

Stiles hid his smile against Derek's shoulder. "It is good chocolate cake," he conceded; "and I went in for a third slice myself, but I'd still much rather have been here." Somewhat embarrassed by the admission, he pulled back to look Derek in the eye. "Are you sure you don't want to back out? Because you can. I don't want you to keep to our agreement just because we have a contract; we should probably add a little clause at the end that says you can break it if you start to feel uncomfortable."

"We can, later," Derek said, bringing his hands up to rest on Stiles's neck, his thumbs idly brushing back and forth. "And we'll put one for you, too. But I—I don't want to back out. You're interesting, and I want to see where this goes."

Stiles smiled. "I'm glad," he murmured, feeling some kind of warmth blossom inside him. It felt a lot like hope. "Will you kiss me?"

Derek nodded. "You're a good boy, for asking," he murmured, carefully tilting Stiles's head as he lowered his own until he could slide his lips across Stiles's, taking his time exploring and mapping Stiles's mouth and his reactions. 

It wasn't Stiles' first kiss, or even his first kiss with Derek, but this one felt better than all of the others combined. It was soft but sure, almost tender, and it stole his breath. Carried away on a tide of sensation, Stiles chased Derek when he pulled back, wanting more—but he was stopped with a firm hand on his chest, and his eyes snapped open. "Oops."

Derek raised one eyebrow. "I didn't tell you that you could follow," he said, his voice stern. "I think you need a little lesson in exactly how I'm going to expect you to kiss, you impatient little brat."

Stiles jerked back, his face heating as he realised exactly how hot he found that name. _Brat_. Maybe he could convince Derek to use it in their scenes? "I'm sorry," he said after a beat. "What kind of lesson?"

"Nothing bad," Derek reassured Stiles, taking in the flush on his cheeks and wondering what, exactly, had put it there. "This is just your first lesson; I'm not punishing you, I'm going to teach you the rules."

"Okay," Stiles mumbled, licking his lips uncertainly. "So what are the rules?"

"First one: If you want a kiss, you have to ask for it," Derek said, and he smiled. "You've already got that one, though. Second rule: _I_ decide where the kiss goes—how hard, fast, and long—unless I give you express permission to control it."

Stiles nodded. "I'll remember."

"Good boy. Third: We can kiss anywhere in the apartment, but it goes no further than kissing unless we're in the spare bedroom."

"The spare bedroom?" Stiles asked, blinking.

Derek nodded. "It helps to keep the scenes separated from the rest of the living space," he explained. "It helps to differentiate between what's a scene and what's real."

"What's real," Stiles repeated, nodding. "Yeah, okay. I get that. What else?"

"Last rule," Derek continued, raising one eyebrow at Stiles's expression, "if I deny you a kiss, I will hear _no_ whining, or you will be punished in a suitable manner."

Well that sucked—but who was Stiles to say so? That was the whole point of this agreement: Derek was the one in control. "Okay. Noted."

"Good." Derek smiled at Stiles before curling one hand around the back of his sub's neck. "Do you want to take a look at the spare room?"

Stiles grinned. "Lead the way."

***

Derek allowed Stiles a few moments to look around the spare bedroom before he beckoned him over to the bed. He'd set up the spare bedroom as a simpler version of the one at the club; the main difference was that rather than a St. Andrew's cross, Derek had bought a spanking stand from one of the other Dominants at the club. He'd made sure to double-, triple-, and quadruple-check the stand to make sure it was completely safe. 

When Stiles moved closer to Derek, Derek sat down on the bed. "I want you to sit next to me while I talk to you."

Sensing that something between them had shifted, Stiles didn't speak, but he did as Derek asked and sat down beside him. "You can talk," were the first words out of Derek's mouth as soon as Stiles was situated. "I wanted to discuss this scene." Derek gestured toward the spanking stand. "Do you know what that is?"

"Yes," Stiles answered, eyeing the stand with curiosity and maybe a little hunger. The St. Andrew's Cross from the room at the club had been intriguing, but not something he'd felt ready to try; this, however, was another story entirely.

Derek smiled at the look on Stiles's face. "Would you like to try it out?"

Stiles' mouth suddenly felt very dry; he moistened his lips. "Yes please," he whispered.

Derek reached over to clasp Stiles's knee, squeezing comfortingly. "I thought we'd start out slow—with my hand, like we did the first time. I've got a few other things I'd like to use on your ass instead of the paddle this time, though."

Stiles felt his heart rate speed up, anticipation and excitement mingling into one. "Can I make noise?" he asked softly.

Derek nodded. "I want to hear you this time; specifically, once we get started with the other equipment, I want to hear you count out the hits."

"Okay," Stiles agreed. "I can do that."

Derek smiled at Stiles. "Good. You remember the end phrase?"

"Mets won the championship," Stiles repeated dutifully.

Derek nodded, pleased. "Good boy. I'm going to get the equipment ready, and I want you to strip down to one piece of clothing of your choice. Then we'll decide what we'll use on you."

Stiles stood and began to strip slowly, peeling off his jacket before bending to untie his laces. In the end he was completely naked save for his t-shirt, which he'd chosen as the one item of clothing he was allowed to leave on. Perhaps it was strange—Derek had seen him naked before, and all of his important bits were still exposed—but he felt oddly self-conscious, doing this for the first time in the daylight and in Derek's own home. He hoped Derek would be okay with it.

Derek rummaged through a couple of drawers before returning to the bed with a flogger, riding crop, and leather glove. He eyed Stiles shirt, but didn't comment beyond "Interesting choice" and a reassuring smile. "Before we continue, I want you to tell me our safewords."

"Mine is lacrosse," Stiles answered, eyeing the flogger with some concern. "And yours is triskele."

"Good boy." Derek noted Stiles's uneasiness, and carefully set the equipment down before he sat down next to Stiles. "I want you to tell me which one of these you want the most and which one the least."

Caught. Stiles blew out a breath. "The crop looks... interesting," he admitted. "The flogger mostly looks scary, though."

"It can be," Derek said. "We don't have to use all of these," he told Stiles. "Remember, this is just as much, if not more, about your pleasure as mine. I want you to feel safe and comfortable."

"I do," Stiles promised. "Just... Could we maybe leave the flogger this time?"

"Of course," Derek answered, smiling at Stiles to show he wasn't mad; he'd honestly expected Stiles to turn down the flogger, but he'd figured it wouldn't hurt to offer. He got up to put the flogger away, and when he came back, he gestured to the glove. "Are you comfortable with that? It'll be like my hand, just more intense."

Stiles nodded. "I figured. I'm fine with it."

"Okay. For this scene, we're going to use the traffic light system. Do you know what that is?"

Stiles nodded. "Green is good, yellow is not-so-good, red is stop. Right?"

Derek smiled. "Exactly. But I'm going to adapt it just a little for this—Green is harder, yellow is slow down, and red means you need a break. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." Stiles bit his lip, his gaze flickering between Derek and the spanking stand. He felt antsy, eager to get started.

Derek smiled and nodded toward the stand. "Come on." He instructed Stiles through getting situated comfortably before he began strapping him in. "I'm not going to put a cock ring on you this time; I want to see how long you can hold out."

Stiles closed his eyes, feeling a delicate shudder run through him. "Okay," he breathed. "I'll try to last for as long as I can."

Derek rubbed Stiles's back tenderly. "Good boy. I'm going to use my hand first, and then do you want the glove or the crop?"

The answer rolled to the very tip of Stiles' tongue before he realised that it wasn't his decision. But Derek had asked... He bit his lip. "You decide," he said at last, and hoped it was the right answer.

Derek hummed thoughtfully, his hand running over Stiles's ass as he thought. "Crop first," he decided. "Then glove."

Stiles relaxed, accepting Derek's choice readily. It was actually kind of nice, having the decision made for him. Now all he had to do was wait for Derek to deal the first blow.

Unlike the first time he'd spanked Stiles, Derek made his sub—the phrase sent a little thrill through him—wait while he slowly and methodically undressed, gathered up the riding crop and glove, and also some lube. When he was satisfied that he had everything, Derek wandered back over to Stiles and set it all up just out of Stiles's line of sight. Only then did he move back behind Stiles, one hand patting his ass possessively. "You've got a real pretty ass," he said conversationally as he dropped the first hard blow onto the right cheek. "Looks even prettier when it's burning for me."

Stiles moaned. "Feels pretty," he confessed, like that even made sense. "Feels _so good_."

Derek smirked, dropping the next slap onto Stiles's left cheek. He set up a steady rhythm, enjoying the sounds coming out of Stiles's mouth. Once Stiles's ass was thoroughly sensitized, Derek stopped. "How you doing?"

"Good," Stiles panted, already hard beyond belief. He squirmed a little, eager for more. "Really good. _Please_..."

"I'm going to start with the crop now," Derek told Stiles, rubbing over his ass affectionately as he bent down to pick up the crop. It was a good length, and had a smaller piece of leather on the end than most riding crops did; he preferred it that way, it stung more sharply. "What did I say I wanted you to do once I started with the equipment?"

For a split second, Stiles' mind went blank. "Traffic lights?" he hedged.

Derek spanked Stiles with the riding crop, hard, with no warning. "Count," he corrected.

Stiles yelped, and inwardly cursed himself. "Sorry, sorry," he said aloud. "Uh. One."

Derek raised one eyebrow; he didn't like the way Stiles had apologized. Still, he wasn't anywhere close to being done with his sub, so he dropped another blow, this one just below the first. He paused to admire the two stripes already coloring Stiles's ass, and to listen to Stiles count. He kept the rhythm steady, but varied his aim, making sure the welts criss-crossed over Stiles's ass. After seven more hits, he paused. "How many was that?" he asked, rubbing the handle of the crop over Stiles's ass, letting it just skim over his hole.

"N-nine," Stiles gasped, jerking hard when the crop ghosted over his hole. He felt so sensitive, especially there, and he struggled to spread his legs wider, offering himself to Derek. "Please don't stop."

Derek smirked. "Of course not," he said soothingly, angling his next blow so it landed across the very bottom of Stiles's buttocks. The next one came much more quickly than the previous ones, and landed squarely over Stiles's hole.

Stiles screamed. "Oh my God, fuck, oh my God," he sobbed out, writhing against the stand. "Do it again, please, please D—" And here he caught himself, nearly choking on the word. He wasn't allowed to call Derek by his name during scenes, but what else was he supposed to say? Desperate, Stiles seized the first word that came to mind. " _Daddy_."

Derek was caught completely off-guard by the way the name seemed to race through him, hot and fast as lightning. "Fuck," he groaned, obliging Stiles's request. "God, you're such a good boy. Gonna keep being good for me, count off your hits for Daddy?"

Stiles was helpless to do anything but go with it. "Yes, Daddy," he whined, thinking quickly. "Twelve."

"Good boy," Derek praised, adding three more hits with the crop. "What color are you at, sweetheart?"

Nearly mindless with blissful pleasurepain, it took Stiles a second to remember the system Derek had implemented, and then he simply panted, "Red."

Derek immediately set the crop down and moved to crouch in front of Stiles's face. "You okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah," Stiles gasped, quick to reassure Derek. His heart was racing and his cock was fucking drooling, but the heat in his face was more due to embarrassment now than arousal. "Was about to come."

Derek couldn't help the relieved chuckle that escaped. "Okay. Do you want me to wait a little bit, or...?"

Stiles felt a little bit more in control now, and he shook his head. "But... Are you okay with the 'Daddy' thing?"

Derek nodded, bringing one hand up to caress Stiles's cheek gently. "Yeah. I am. Are you?"

Stiles nodded too, leaning into the touch, and bit his lip. "I like it," he admitted slowly. "And I liked when you called me a brat, before."

Derek smiled. "Do you want me to keep calling you that?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Stiles whispered, feeling oddly vulnerable. "Please, Daddy."

Derek shushed Stiles gently, carefully kissing his forehead. "I'll take care of you, brat," he said affectionately. "I'm going to put the glove on, and I want you to start your count over."

Stiles let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, excited despite the way his ass was throbbing. "Yes, Daddy."

Derek smiled. "Good boy. Don't forget to count."

***

It took eleven hits with the glove before Stiles was sobbing, almost coming, and on the twelfth, he came, and Derek almost came with him. He opted for using the lube and rutting against Stiles's ass instead. After he came, Derek unfastened Stiles's restraints and helped him to carefully stand up before moving to the bed. "Let me clean you up before you sit down," he murmured.

"Okay." Stiles swayed slightly on his feet but remained standing, not really sure if he even wanted to sit down. His ass was burning, and would probably be sore for at least a few days. Given the pleasant, kind of detached sensation he was experiencing, however, it was definitely worth it.

Derek carefully wiped Stiles down with a wet wipe and grabbed some soothing cream before sitting on the bed and pulling Stiles down with him. "Let me put this on," he murmured. "It'll help." Stiles just went lax in Derek's arms, trusting him to take care of him. Derek carefully applied the cream, re-capping it when he was done and setting it aside before pulling Stiles closer. "You did well," he praised, pressing a kiss to Stiles's temple. 

"Thank you," Stiles whispered, squirming closer to Derek. He felt shaky, strange, like he needed to be touched, and he suddenly wished he'd taken his shirt off when he'd had the chance. He would have to remember that for next time.

Derek ran his hands over Stiles's arms and shoulders, rubbing firmly. "You want me to take your shirt off now?" he asked quietly, still touching Stiles, comforting him.

Stiles nodded, his face hidden in the crook of Derek's neck, and pulled back so that Derek could do just that. Instantly he felt better, Derek's warm hands on his skin working wonders toward soothing him, grounding him. Stiles melted back into his hold, a contented sigh escaping him.

Derek carefully shifted them so that they were under the blanket before he reached for the dresser, pulling out a bottle of water and a granola bar. "Glad I thought to stock this," he murmured, twisting the cap off of the bottle before offering it to Stiles.

Feeling suddenly parched, Stiles drank deeply before accepting the offered granola bar. "You did know I was coming," he pointed out as he peeled the wrapper open. "But I'm glad, too. I always feel shaky after scenes, like I need to eat."

"It's common," Derek replied, holding Stiles close. "Your body puts out so many endorphins during play that when it stops producing them in such huge amounts, you feel like you're going through withdrawal."

Stiles nodded, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. "What about you?" he asked softly after a moment. "How does it feel for you?"

Derek considered the question for a moment; he'd never given much thought about how he felt after a scene before. "It feels good," he said finally. "Taking care of someone, both during and after the scene. It makes me feel satisfied, to the point where orgasms are just a bonus; I could be happy with a scene without them."

Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "I can understand that," he supposed. It would be good to take care of someone like that; to know that he could provide what they needed. "And I guess not needing orgasms is a good thing. Scenes don't always include them, right?"

"Right," Derek said, nodding. "But that's usually in partners who have been together for a while."

"What if I'm bad, and you have to punish me?" Stiles asked, smirking. "Do we still get orgasms then?"

Derek lightly smacked Stiles in the back of the head. "Of course not, unless I decide you're sorry enough to deserve one," he said, smiling fondly as he did.

Stiles grinned apologetically and tilted his face up a little. "Kiss me?" he breathed.

Derek smiled, tilting his head down to slowly kiss Stiles. "I like kissing you," he confessed softly.

"Good," Stiles murmured back, his grin relaxing into a lazy smile. "Because I like kissing you, too."

***

By the time both Derek and Stiles were feeling steady, it was almost dinner time; Derek helped Stiles get dressed before they headed out to the kitchen. "I've got... spaghetti, frozen dinners, hamburgers, hamburger helper, ramen noodles, pizza, chicken tenders... What's your taste?" he asked, rummaging through his cabinets and fridge.

"Pizza sounds good," Stiles answered, seating himself on a stool at the breakfast bar and looking around. "Have I mentioned that this is a great apartment?"

Derek pulled a plain cheese pizza out of the fridge and set the box on the counter. "No, you haven't; but thanks." He turned back to the fridge. "Toppings? I always like putting my own toppings on."

Stiles shrugged, smiling. "Whatever you want. I'm easy—in a non-sexual way."

Derek chuckled. "Meat lover's?" he suggested. "I've got pepperoni, sausage, and bacon. Also some vegetables if you want them. Peppers, onions."

"All of the above," Stiles decided. "Pizza is a rare thing at my place."

Derek grinned. "Sounds good to me." He got the ingredients out and started layering the onions, then pepperoni, and sprinkled sausage, bacon, and peppers over top. He gestured to the oven with one hand while he was working. "Preheat that to 375 degrees."

Stiles hopped down from his stool and did as he was told, preparing a baking tray for Derek to put the pizza on afterwards because he was just that nice. "Anything else, Chef?"

Derek pointed at the fridge. "I have drinks in there; get me a bottle of Gold Peak Tea, and help yourself to whatever's in there, but _don't_ touch the alcohol."

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. "Against underage drinking?" he asked, smirking, even as he grabbed Derek's tea and a soda for himself. "Seems pretty mild, given what we're likely to get up to this weekend."

Derek snorted. "No, that's Jackson's alcohol; Danny hid it from him. And you may be my sub, but if Jackson found out you drank his alcohol, I don't think I could do much to protect you."

That brought Stiles up short. "Danny comes here?" He'd thought Derek and Danny only knew each other from the club.

Derek glanced over his shoulder, and then turned to face Stiles fully once he got a good look at the expression on Stiles's face. "No," he said slowly. "He's only been here twice—once when a Dom wouldn't take no for an answer, and then again to hide Jackson's beer."

Stiles nodded, trying not to show how much the thought of Danny being a regular visitor of Derek's had affected him. "Oh, okay."

"Hey," Derek said quietly, moving forward to rest his hands on Stiles's shoulders. "I'm only playing with you, now; you know that. And Danny and I only ever played at the club; you're the first person I've played with here."

Stiles shrugged, feeling awkward and self-conscious. "I shouldn't care," he dismissed. "It doesn't matter, right? You said yourself that this is only temporary."

Derek shook his head. "Even if it's temporary, that doesn't mean that this and whatever you and I feel are not real—because it is." One hand moved to cup Stiles's cheek gently, as Derek tried to find the right words. "I've committed to you. You've been with other people before me, and I've been with other people before you. But what matters right now is that we're with each other, no matter how this ends up."

Stiles leaned into the touch, his cheeks flushing as he let himself get lost in Derek's eyes. They were gorgeous—how had he not noticed that before? He licked his lips. "If I was allowed to, I'd totally kiss you right now," he rasped.

Derek considered allowing this one exception, but... Well, rules were rules. "You could ask for one," he suggested, smiling softly.

Stiles's eyes softened, his lips curving upwards to match Derek's smile. "Please kiss me, Daddy."

Derek nodded, leaning down to kiss Stiles softly. It was slow, tender, and almost made Derek want to run from the room. He didn't, though; he'd meant what he said to Stiles earlier: he was committed to this relationship.

The kiss took Stiles' breath away, and although he let Derek control it like he was supposed to, he threaded his fingers into Derek's hair, pressing himself against that strong chest. He whimpered softly when they broke apart, opening his eyes and falling into Derek's gaze again. All of a sudden the moment felt too real, too raw, and he had to say _something_ to break the spell. "I really want you to know that my dad and I have a really healthy relationship," he blurted. "I don't know why calling you Daddy gets me hot, but my actual father doesn't have anything to do with it."

Derek blinked, momentarily confused by the non sequitur. "Okay," he said, slightly amused, but keeping things as serious as he could. "And I don't have any children, but incest really doesn't do it for me. But I like to hear you call me Daddy, and I like to call you my brat. We're not hurting anyone, so it's okay."

Stiles nodded, but he still felt unsure. "Are you sure we're not perverts?" he asked tentatively.

Derek shook his head. "We're not," he said firmly. "Are we any more perverted because we're two men? No. We're not perverted."

"Okay," Stiles murmured, smiling. "Okay, Daddy."

***

Danny studied Stiles closely. It had been a little over two months since the "housesitting" conversation, and since then Stiles had left every Friday afternoon, and wasn't seen until the following Monday. "So," he said conversationally, scooping up a piece of chocolate fudge pie with his fork. "You still helping that guy, Derek, housesit every weekend?"

Stiles jerked, hard, and let out a strangled sound when the movement jostled the plug buried inside of him. "Uhh, what?" he asked, feeling his face heat. "D-Derek? Yeah, he's a... a good friend." A good friend who liked it when Stiles called him Daddy. A good friend who had sent Stiles a text that morning instructing him to keep himself plugged until they met later that day.

Danny felt one eyebrow rise. Stiles was... not himself. He was more spacey and flustered than usual. "You okay, dude?"

Stiles closed his eyes, composing himself, and put on his very best poker face—which admittedly was not that great just now. "I'm fine," he said, pointedly ignoring the throbbing in his jeans. "Just a little... warm."

"You never get warm," Scott broke in, looking up from his burger, concern written plain on his face. "And what's with the squirming?"

"Yeah," Danny added, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I mean, you're usually fidgeting, but this time it's like you're in pain."

Stiles wanted to die. "Not in pain," he insisted, but then quickly thought better of it. "Or, I might be. I guess. It's kind of embarrassing." He avoided Danny's gaze. "I fell and landed funny. I kind of... bruised my ass?"

Danny snorted, choking as he tried to stifle his laughter, and Scott reached over to thump him on the back. "Really? How'd that happen?"

Stiles winced. He really didn't have enough brain power for this right now; a slight adjustment of his position had the plug pressing right up against his prostate, and he was seeing stars. "I tripped..." he began haltingly. "Over... a table..."

"You tripped over a table?" Danny echoed, snickering. This time when Scott hit him, it was upside the head. 

"You know Stiles isn't always graceful," he chided.

"Let's talk about something else," Stiles said quickly, surreptitiously sliding a hand between his legs to adjust himself. Even that touch was too much, though, and he couldn't quite contain a whimper. God, he needed to get out of here.

Danny decided to take pity on Stiles, and turned the conversation to other things. When they left, though, Danny yanked Stiles to the side. "He's got you wearing a plug, hasn't he?"

Stiles whined and gripped Danny's arm to steady himself. "Yes, you sadistic bastard," he hissed. "You're killing me, man!"

Danny patted Stiles's arm soothingly. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have teased you in front of Scott. Are you meeting up with him today?"

Stiles nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah, I'm gonna head over there now. I can't take this much longer." He needed Derek.

Danny smiled. "I'm sure he's gonna be proud of you for lasting through the day," he said reassuringly. "You better get going, though, or he might not be; you look like you're about to come in your pants."

"Oh my God, is it that obvious?" Stiles groaned, but he didn't even need to ask. The look on Danny's face told him everything he needed to know.

***

By the time Stiles finally reached Derek's apartment, he was ready to lose it. He didn't know what that meant, whether he would come or pass out or just break down in tears, but he was definitely on the edge of _something_ and it was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. He lifted a shaking hand to knock on the door, gripping the doorframe when his knees threatened to buckle, and prayed that Derek was home.

Derek wasn't home; he'd had to run out and grab some groceries to restock the spare bedroom and the fridge, but he was coming down the hall when he saw Stiles gripping the doorframe. "Stiles?" he asked, concerned, shifting all of the groceries to one arm as he reached out to lay his free hand on Stiles's shoulder. "You okay?"

Stiles gasped and turned, falling against Derek's side. He immediately felt better, but not by much. "Daddy," he panted, face hidden in Derek's shoulder. "Need you."

Ah. Derek shushed Stiles gently, pressing a kiss to his brat's temple as he fumbled for the keys and opened the door, hustling them in before he locked the door behind them and dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter. "Let's go to the spare, brat," he murmured. 

Stiles clung to Derek as they moved through the apartment, every step sending a shock of pleasure through his body so acute it was almost pain. He was shaking when they reached the bedroom, utterly overwhelmed, and he didn't feel it when a tear slipped down his cheek.

Derek noticed, and was quick to wipe it away. "Let's get you undressed," he said softly, gently stripping Stiles down before pulling his own clothes off and sitting on the bed. He tugged Stiles down onto his lap, placing his knees on either side of Derek's hips. "You're close," he stated, gently running his hands up and down Stiles's sides.

Stiles pressed himself into Derek's arms, nuzzling the side of his neck. His breathing was ragged and little needy sounds were making their way past his lips, but he couldn't hear them. "Been close all day," he confessed, his voice wrecked. "Can't get there, though."

Derek murmured soothing nonsense in Stiles ear. "I'll get you there," he promised, reaching behind Stiles to grasp the end of the plug and twist it a little bit. "Think you can come untouched for Daddy, brat?"

Stiles moaned and gripped Derek's shoulders, hard. "I can—I can try," he stammered, squirming back against Derek's hand. "Oh Daddy, please..."

"Keep your hands where they are," Derek ordered, wrapping one arm around Stiles's waist, his other hand still toying with the plug. "Did you put this in right when I asked you to?"

"Yeah," Stiles breathed, still squirming. "Got me so fuckin' hot. Was hard even before I put it in. Had no idea it'd be like this, though."

Derek hummed, pleased. "Good boy. And you haven't come at all today?" he asked—he was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he wasn't going to make this _too_ easy for Stiles.

Stiles shook his head. "No, not once. Came really fucking close a few times, but I just—I couldn't."

Derek smiled, placing a kiss to the base of Stiles's throat. "Good boy," he repeated, pulling the plug almost all the way out  before slowly pushing it back in, angling so it scraped over his prostate.

Stiles cried out, his hands like claws on Derek's shoulders. "Oh, please," he begged, utterly shameless. "Daddy, please help me, make me come."

Derek shushed Stiles gently, his free hand rubbing up and down Stiles's spine soothingly as he worked the plug in different rhythms, sometimes fast and relentless, sometimes in barely-there pulses. After a little while, though, Derek finally took pity on Stiles. "Do you think you can do one more thing for me, brat? Do you think you can come when Daddy tells you to?"

"Yes, yes," Stiles sobbed, fucking back against the plug. "Anything, Daddy, _anything_ , please just let me come."

"All right then: Come." Derek punctuated his order with a particularly hard thrust, twisting the plug so it rubbed just right against Stiles's sweet spot.

Stiles came with a shout, completely untouched just like his Daddy had asked him to. It rocked him to his core and left him shaking, clinging to Derek and whimpering soft thanks into his neck.

Derek carefully worked Stiles through his orgasm until his brat was shaking from over-sensitiveness. Then Derek slowly removed the plug. He set it to one side of the bed before pulling Stiles closer, molding him along Derek's front as he scooted up the bed so he could lean against the headboard. "Mets won the championship," he whispered just before pressing a soft kiss to Stiles's temple. 

For the first time since they'd started this, that phrase didn't bring Stiles out of the scene. He'd been flirting with subspace all day, but now he was so deeply immersed that he didn't know how to get out. Instead he simply burrowed deeper into Derek's hold, seeking that wonderful skin-on-skin contact that never failed to calm his racing heart, those small, needy sounds still falling from his lips.

When Stiles didn't respond the way he usually did, Derek pulled Stiles as close to him as he could, rubbing his back and shoulders soothingly. "Stiles, baby, we're done with this scene," he murmured. "I know it's hard, brat, but I need you to focus—can you tell me your safeword? I want you to tell me your safeword, sweetheart."

Even then, it took Stiles several moments of slowly blinking himself back to awareness before he could answer. "L-lacrosse," he whispered. "It's lacrosse."

"Good boy," Derek praised, pressing a kiss to Stiles's forehead. "What about mine? What's Daddy's safeword?"

"Triskele," Stiles answered, this time with only the slightest hesitation.

"Very good. One last question: Who's the president?" 

Stiles, having mostly returned to himself now, smirked. "Teddy Roosevelt?"

Derek rolled his eyes and smacked Stiles lightly on the back of the head. "Nope, try again."

"Obama, duh," Stiles answered. "I was in subspace, not a coma."

Derek shook his head. "I was just making sure," he chuckled. "How you feeling now?"

"A little weird," Stiles admitted, sitting up some. "But okay. Do we have anything sweet?"

Derek nodded. "Yeah, still have some chocolate left over. Got some more today while I was out getting groceries if you need it." He rummaged through the drawer in the bedside table and produced a chocolate bar, which he unwrapped and broke off a piece of to hand to Stiles.

Stiles popped it into his mouth and closed his eyes, savouring the taste as it melted over his tongue. "Thanks," he breathed when it was gone. "That scene was really intense."

Derek nodded. "It was," he agreed. "Which means you're going to be feeling the effects for a while. Here." Derek grabbed some wet wipes and used them to clean both of them up before chucking the wipes into the small trash can next to the bedside table and then grabbing a bottle of Gatorade and opening it.

Stiles downed half the Gatorade in one go and then handed the bottle back to Derek, snuggling into his arms again. "Danny knew," he mumbled, eyes closed. "He was making fun of me while we were having lunch. Asshole."

Derek shook his head, chuckling slightly as he wrapped his arms around Stiles again. "He is an asshole," he agreed, resting his cheek against Stiles's. "Did anyone else notice?"

"I think Scott thought I was stoned," Stiles mused. "But he didn't work it out. I love the guy, but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed."

Derek chuckled. "Sounds like it," he agreed, shifting so that they were laying flat on the bed. He was quiet for a moment before asking, "What have you told them about me?"

Stiles hesitated, feeling inexplicably guilty. "I've told Scott that I'm keeping you company while you housesit," he confessed. "Danny knows the truth, obviously, but he goes along with it."

Derek digested that. "So to everyone but Danny, I'm just a friend?"

"Yeah," Stiles said slowly. "Is that okay? Did you want me to tell them the truth?" Dear God, he hoped not. That was not a conversation he ever wanted to have with Scott, let alone anyone else.

Derek shook his head fervently. "No, of course not. I just thought—Well, it's kind of hard to believe that Scott could be _that_ oblivious, that he hasn't asked you if we're fucking or something like that, despite what you've told me about him. Or that he hasn't asked to meet me or something."

Stiles shrugged. "I think once he gets over the fact that I'm close to someone other than him, he'll start asking questions," he offered. "He's not possessive or jealous or whatever, we're just used to being joined at the hip. And it's definitely not going to occur to him that we might be fucking; he knows I'm into guys, but he doesn't really think about it, y'know? If you were a girl it'd be a different story."

Derek nodded understandingly. "It's a problem for later," he decided. "Whenever Scott finally figures it out."

***

It was a wonder Scott didn't catch on during the next few months—Stiles was flagrantly abusing the "housesitting" excuse, and the one time Derek openly wondered how many times Scott had been dropped on his head as a child, Stiles had pummeled him with a pillow on principle before informing him that Melissa, Scott's mother, had lost count of the number of times Scott accidentally ran into walls or doorframes or cabinet doors. Derek had commented that he wasn't surprised, and then had gone down, laughing, under Stiles's second assault. 

Stiles spent enough time now at Derek's that it felt _wrong_ to come home to his apartment and not see Stiles's books and bags strewn across the living room, and sometimes even Stiles himself sprawled across the couch, napping. Sometimes he came home and Stiles was waiting for him in the spare bedroom, or, on one memorable occasion when Stiles had been more than slightly buzzed, buck-ass naked. 

So it wasn't surprising when Derek walked in, carrying the mail, and made an irritated noise, assuming Stiles was there to complain to. "Rent's due soon," he announced.

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, barely glancing over. He was curled up on the couch with a textbook, highlighter in hand, his bare toes flexing rhythmically against the soft fabric beneath them. "Same here. Scott told me this morning that he doesn't care if I'm hardly ever there, I still have to pay my half. Smartass."

Derek raised one eyebrow. "You signed a contract with him, didn't you?" The word "contract" seemed to stir something at the back of Derek's mind, but when he didn't immediately recall it, he decided to leave it be; trying to force whatever it was wouldn't do any good. "Be thankful you've only got to pay half."

Stiles laughed. "Oh, I am," he said sincerely. "But I do kinda feel like it should be you I'm going halfsies with. I'm surprised Scott even remembers my name."

Derek outright laughed at that, dropping onto the other end of the couch to sort through the rest of the mail. "You do spend an awful lot of time here," he agreed.

"But you're not complaining, right?" Stiles asked as he slid his feet beneath Derek's thigh, his eyes bright and playful.

Derek reached over and squeezed Stiles's ankle affectionately. "Of course not."

Stiles grinned, his gaze dropping to the letters in Derek's hands. He'd just discarded one, and it lay against Stiles' shin in such a way that the header was clearly visible. Stiles blanched and snatched it up along with the envelope. It was stamped with a guarantee for next-day delivery. "Holy shit, is that yesterday's date?" he demanded, waving the letter in Derek's face. "Our contract's been up for weeks!"

Stiles's words made Derek's heart stop. He grabbed the letter from Stiles's hand, looking at the date intently. "It is," he agreed weakly. "Holy shit. We've been—we haven't been under the protection of a contract." He could feel the blood draining from his face as he got up and started pacing.

Stiles watched, feeling devastated. Why was Derek reacting so strongly? "It's not that big of a deal, right?" he asked desperately. "The contract's expired but we didn't realise, so we were still sticking to it. It's not like we did anything wrong—we just... forgot."

"Contracts are _important,_ Stiles!" Derek snapped. "They're used for a reason."

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?" Stiles snapped back, feeling hurt and embarrassed. Everything in him told him he shouldn't be talking to Derek like this, but their contract was up—he wasn't Derek's sub anymore; hadn't been for a while. "We didn't break the contract, it just ran out and we didn't notice. We were still playing by those rules! And I can't go back in time and fix it, so what is the point in freaking out about this?"

"The point is I could have hurt you," Derek said, frustrated. "Dammit, Stiles, why can't you see that? _I could have hurt you_!"

"How?" Stiles demanded, pushing his textbook aside so that he could get to his feet. "How could you have hurt me? You thought we were still under the contract; you would never have hurt me before our time ran out. So what damage could our failure to look at a calendar have really done?"

Derek couldn't think right; he was still panicking because he'd unintentionally put Stiles in the same position Kate had put _him_ in, and he always, _always_ strived to be everything she hadn't been. "I could have taken advantage of you, and you would still have thought you were bound to follow my orders under the contract!"

"Derek!" Against every instinct he had as a submissive, Stiles stepped up and grabbed Derek by the shoulders, forcing him to stop and listen. "You had opportunity to take advantage of me, it's true," he conceded. "But you didn't, and you never would. That's not who you are, okay? And I know that. Look at me. _You are not her_."

Derek stared at Stiles, still panicking slightly, for a few long moments before he finally nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay." He took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. "Okay. I'm sorry for freaking out."

Stiles sighed and released Derek's shoulders, only to wrap his arms around them and pull him in close. "It's all right," he said softly. "I get it. Are you okay?"

Derek's next exhale was more than a little shaky. "Not exactly," he murmured, wrapping Stiles up in his own embrace, accepting the comfort offered. "Just—shook me."

Stiles could work that out just from the slight tremble in Derek's voice. He stroked a hand down Derek's back, and just like that it became apparent that the carer/cared for roles had been reversed. It was a surprisingly easy mindset for Stiles to slip into. "Okay, come on," he breathed, gently guiding Derek over to the sofa without breaking their hold on each other. Once they were sitting down, he tightened his arms around Derek and began to speak in a low voice. "I meant what I said. You're not her. You could never hurt me like that, or any other sub. You're a great Dom, Derek. I wouldn't be here if that wasn't true."

Derek nodded; Stiles words made sense, but they merely washed over him. He heard and understood them, but they weren't what was important. What was important was the fact that Stiles was holding him, was comforting him in a way that Derek hadn't allowed himself to be in a long time. Stiles was quick to realise that Derek wasn't really listening, but it didn't really matter. He kept talking, telling Derek that he was okay; that he was safe; that _Stiles_ was safe—and more importantly, he didn't let go. They ended up sprawled on the couch, legs tangled together, Stiles gently carding his fingers through Derek's hair. He knew all too well how grounding a simple touch like that could be, and that seemed to be what Derek needed most just then. Stiles was more than willing to provide it for him.

It took several minutes before Derek was calm again, and even when he was, he didn't make any move to get away from Stiles. "Thanks," he murmured, from where his face was pressed into Stiles's chest.

"Anytime," Stiles said fondly, dropping a kiss onto the top of Derek's head. It was strange, but it definitely felt right, having Derek in his arms, seeking comfort from him. He just didn't know what that meant.

They stayed like that for a while longer, until Derek's stomach rumbled. "Dinner?" he suggested, sitting up.

Stiles nodded, getting to his feet. "Unless you want me to go?" he asked uncertainly. There was no real reason for Derek to want him around now that their contract was up.

Derek hesitated; their contract was up, there was no reason for Derek to want to hang out with Stiles, except... Except he liked Stiles. A lot. Not even just as his sub, but as a person as well. "You don't have to," he said finally. "But I'd like you to stay."

Stiles smiled, soft and surprised. "Then I'd love to stay."

***

They ended up ordering out for Chinese, and Derek was the one to broach the subject of renewing their contract. "So," he began, poking at a dumpling with his chopsticks, "if I were to ask if you wanted to stay with me, what would you say?"

"Stay with you like what, like spend the night?" Stiles asked, a piece of lemon chicken halfway to his lips. He dropped it back onto his plate. "I think I'd say yeah."

Derek shook his head. "No, I mean like— _with_ me. As my sub."

"Oh." Stiles sat up a little straighter at that. "Then I'd say yes. Hell yes. But that's probably not what you want to hear, is it?"

Derek shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know," he admitted. On the one hand, he really enjoyed their scenes, but on the other—if Stiles said yes this time, then Derek knew it would be for the long term, and that thought terrified the shit out of him.

Stiles' gaze softened. "It's whatever you're comfortable with—you know that, right?" he asked quietly. "I know I was an asshole at the beginning and pushed you into this, but I know better now. If you don't want to, that's okay."

Derek sighed. "It's the same problem as when we started—I _do_ want to, and honestly, that scares me."

"Okay," Stiles said slowly. "Why does it scare you?"

"Because it's new," Derek said simply. "I know we've already been together for several months, but that was when I thought we'd end this at the end of the contract. But we didn't, we just kept right on going, and it scares me how well we work together."

"New doesn't always mean bad," Stiles reasoned. "And you're right. We do work well together; _really_ well. So what's the worst that could happen?"

"It's not that it's _bad_ because it's new," Derek struggled to explain, "it's just because it's new—you know I've only been in one other long-term BDSM relationship, and it didn't go well. Granted, I was the sub there, but it's still my only other experience. So I know that this will be different, because I'm not the sub, and I'm not _her_ , but it's still intimidating because it's unknown. I don't have much experience with this."

Stiles set his food aside and scooted closer until he could lay a hand on Derek's leg. "I don't have any experience with this," he reminded gently. "But after what happened with your Domme, you know exactly how _not_ to go about this, and whatever we don't know, I think we could learn together. If you'd feel more comfortable writing up another short-term contract and actually keeping an eye on the date this time, then I understand. Or if you'd rather take that step with someone who knows what they're doing, or not take it at all, I understand that, too. At the end of the day, I just want you to feel safe." He squeezed Derek's thigh, and then stood up. "I think I should go home. Call me, okay? Whatever you decide, I want us to stay friends."

Derek wanted to disagree, wanted Stiles to stay so they could talk this out—but that wasn't what they needed. He nodded, instead. "All right. I'll call you," he promised.

Stiles gathered his things together quickly and then all but fled Derek's apartment, needing to get out of there before he lost his resolve, pressed himself into Derek's arms and begged him not to send him away. By the time he made it back to the dorm he shared with Scott, he felt miserable, utterly certain that Derek was going to choose not to extend their contract. All of the reasons he'd given for being cautious were good ones, _really_ good ones, that far outweighed any benefit Derek could get from continuing a relationship with someone like Stiles. And Stiles wasn't bitter about that; he was just sad.

***

Derek didn't call Stiles until the following Thursday; it was a long time to make Stiles wait, and Derek felt a bit guilty about that, but he wanted to be absolutely certain about what he was doing. He'd spent every free moment thinking about their situation, looking at every side, every potential problem, and every good thing about them. In the end, there was no contest—Derek liked Stiles, he liked their scenes, and he wanted to continue to play exclusively with Stiles. He couldn't let what had happened with Kate destroy them. He was still nervous, yes, but Derek thought that they had a good chance of making a long term relationship work.

Choice made, Derek picked up his phone and dialed Stiles's number, waiting for the younger man to pick up. When he did, he spoke right over Stiles's greeting. "I want you to be my sub," he said in a rush.

Stiles, who was in the middle of a class that was about to start, flushed bright red and hastily turned the volume down on his phone. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I want you to be my sub," Derek repeated, still slightly breathless; he really, _really_ hoped that Stiles wasn't about to shoot him down.

Stiles was utterly helpless to stop the grin that lit up his whole face, but he did manage to keep his voice steady for the benefit of his classmates. "That's great, Derek. I've gotta go, but I'll come over after class." But the second half of his last sentence was lost to Derek as Stiles' phone was snatched out of his hand, and the call ended.

"No cellphones in my class."

Stiles peered sheepishly up at his professor. "Sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"You're right," the professor said coldly, and to Stiles' horror, he slipped the phone into his breast pocket. "You can have this back after class."

Almost everyone in the room by now was trying to stifle their laughter, but Stiles didn't care. "I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to do that!" he squawked indignantly at the professor's retreating back. "This isn't highschool!"

"Then stop acting like a child," the professor called back as he resumed his position at the front of the room. Stiles only barely resisted the urge to slam his head down onto his desk.

***

Derek was freaking out. He'd told Stiles he wanted to keep their relationship going—but Stiles hadn't seemed too enthusiastic about that. He tried calling again, but when the call went to voicemail, he remembered Stiles had a class now. 

Then he tried again, when he was certain Stiles was out of class, and this time the call didn't even ring; it went straight to voicemail. Either Stiles was avoiding him, or his phone was dead. But Stiles was usually good about keeping his phone charged. By the time there was a knock on his door, Derek was ready to just give up and pretend none of the past few months ever happened. 

He opened the door and blinked at Stiles in surprise. "Can I help you?"

Stiles was a little taken aback at the coolness of Derek's tone, but he didn't let it deter him. "I hope so," he grinned. "You said something about wanting me to be your sub?"

"I did," Derek said, but he didn't make any move to let Stiles in. "Is that something you're interested in, now?"

Stiles' face fell. "What?" he asked. "Of course. Didn't you hear me last week? I'm pretty sure I made my feelings clear."

"I'd say you made them pretty clear earlier," Derek said, crossing his arms. "You sounded pretty disinterested, and then you hung up on me. Then you didn't answer any of my other calls. Sends a pretty clear message, don't you think?"

"What other calls?" Stiles demanded, digging in his pocket for his phone. He pressed a button to light the screen up and prove to Derek that he had no missed calls, and immediately realised the problem. _Oh shit_. "The bastard turned it off! Look, Derek, I sounded disinterested because I was in class and I didn't want to draw attention to myself, but I said that it was great and that I'd come over after I was done—or at least I tried to, before my professor snatched and fucking _confiscated_ my phone. I swear to God, I wasn't trying to blow you off. I'm seriously, like, _ecstatic_ that you want me to be your sub."

Derek studied Stiles intently. He didn't seem like he was lying... "You really got your phone confiscated?"

"Yes, I did," Stiles said, with as much dignity as he could manage. "I was furious, said that I wasn't a highschooler, and he just told me to stop acting like one. The guy's a headcase. Derek, I'm _so_ sorry."

Derek nodded. "Okay then." He stepped to the side, letting Stiles in.

Stiles let out a relieved breath and walked into the apartment, turning to face Derek when he heard the door close. He felt kind of giddy, but with nerves or excitement he didn't know. "I guess we should talk, huh?"

Derek nodded. "Yes, we should." He hesitated, then, unsure of how to start. After a moment, he took a deep breath and decided to get his most worrying topic out of the way. "I want this to be long term."

"Okay," Stiles said, nodding. "So do I."

Derek nodded, smiling softly. "Okay, then. I figured the rest would still be the same?"

"Works for me." Stiles returned Derek's smile. "Daddy."

***

Derek drew up another contract and after going over it with Stiles, they both signed it. They would review the contract every six months for as long as they were together, but there was no end date. 

 A month and a half into the renewal, Scott finally said, "I want to meet Derek," while he, Stiles, and Danny were at their weekly lunch. 

Stiles had definitely seen this coming a mile off, but he still choked on his chocolate cake when the words finally came out of Scott's mouth. "You wanna what?" he spluttered, his gaze nervously flickering to Danny. "Why?"

Scott looked at Stiles incredulously while Danny just paid his cake _very_ close attention. "Because you're over with him _all the time_. I want to meet the guy."

"Aw, Scott," Stiles cooed, reaching over the table to squeeze his cheek. "Do you miss me, buddy? All you had to do was say."

Scott smacked Stiles's hand away. "That too," he admitted, "but mostly it's that we know _nothing_ about him."

Once again Stiles' gaze landed on Danny, but he was stubbornly keeping quiet. Stiles couldn't decide whether that made him a traitor or the best friend he'd ever had in that moment. "You know plenty about him," he argued weakly. "You know his name, and that he housesits every weekend, and that he's older than us. You have friends that I don't know anything about, but you don't see me demanding that you bring them home to meet the roommate."

"I also don't spend as much time with any one of them as you do with this Derek person," Scott countered.

Stiles knew he was cornered. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" he asked.

Scott knew it, too. "Nope," he said, grinning.

Stiles sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll ask him, but that's all I'm going to do. He's very... private."

Scott reached over and clapped Stiles on the shoulder. "That's all I'm asking, buddy."

***

Derek merely raised one eyebrow when Stiles asked him. "About time," he commented. "Do you want me to meet him?"

Stiles shrugged. "It's up to you. If you want to meet him, you can, and if not I'll just say you have social anxiety or something. But if you want to, we need to talk about what to tell him."

"I want to," Derek assured Stiles, taking his hand. "We're together, now. Scott deserves the chance to give the best friend speech."

Stiles looked down at their hands, his own so pale in comparison to Derek's, and felt his heart skip. "Is that what you want us to say?" he asked softly. "That you're my boyfriend?"

Derek instinctively flinched from the word as it echoed in his ears, spoken by a voice both sweeter and crueler than Stiles's. "Not that word," he said, looking at Stiles pleadingly. "Another one. Partner."

Stiles' eyes widened briefly in understanding, and he nodded, swallowing. "Okay. Partner," he agreed. The word sounded a lot more serious than 'boyfriend', a lot more like 'forever', and he knew that Scott would have plenty of questions, but it didn't matter. The main thing was that Derek felt comfortable; Stiles could deal with Scott.

Derek smiled gratefully at Stiles, squeezing his hand gently. "Thank you. When do you want to meet?"

Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "What about this time next week?" he suggested. "You could swing by the café after class and grab a slice of cake with us? That way we have an excuse to leave if things get awkward."

Derek nodded. "Yeah, that works for me," he said, smiling. 

***

The next week passed impossibly quickly, until all of a sudden it was Friday again and Stiles found himself sitting with Danny and Scott at their usual table, halfway through a slice of chocolate cake. Derek wasn't there yet, but that was okay; he had a class at the time the group normally met for lunch, so he was going to swing by soon to pick Stiles up and say hi to Scott while he was at it. The plan was for it to be a flying visit, only long enough for Derek to consume his own slice of cake, but it was open to them staying longer if Scott and Danny behaved themselves. At this point, Stiles didn't think they were going to. Scott had been trying to quiz him since they'd sat down, and Danny just kept sending them both looks that said he was highly amused by the whole situation. Stiles kind of hated them both.

Derek took a deep breath before stepping through the doors, heading straight for Stiles's table. He leaned down and kissed Stiles on the cheek before sitting down in the open chair next to Stiles. "Hey," he said, offering Danny and Scott a smile. "I'm Derek."

Scott stared at Derek in amazement. " _This_ is Derek?" he demanded, looking at Stiles incredulously. Pieces were beginning to fall into place.

"Yeah," Stiles said slowly, eyebrows raised. "This is Derek. And you promised to be nice."

"Hey, Derek," Danny said, grinning. He held up a hand with three fingers, ticking them down until—

" _You've been sleeping with him?_ "

Derek rolled his eyes. "Yes, Stiles and I have been sleeping together." He offered the waitress an apologetic smile before requesting a slice of chocolate cake.

Stiles stared at Scott. "How did you get that from one look at him?" he demanded. "Also, could you raise your voice a little? I'm pretty sure they didn't hear you in Europe."

Scott looked sheepish. "Allison tried to tell me," he muttered. "I didn't believe her, but then Derek kissed you."

Stiles flushed. He hadn't even noticed; he was just so used to the easy give and take of affection between him and Derek. "Well, Allison was right. We're together."

Derek mused that Scott looked rather like a fish, with the way his mouth kept opening and closing. Danny just laughed. "Glad you two are sticking it out," he said, clapping Derek on the shoulder. 

Stiles gave Danny a genuine smile. "Yeah, me too."

Derek smiled again and laid his arm across the back of Stiles's chair. "So," Scott began, "how long has Derek been your boyfriend?"

Derek stiffened, his hand clenching on the back of Stiles's chair. "Partners," he corrected through gritted teeth, concentrating on keeping his breathing even. 

Scott looked between Derek and Stiles, frowning in confusion. "What?"

"We're partners," Stiles said firmly, squeezing Derek's knee under the table. "Not—anything else. Partners."

Scott opened his mouth to question further, but yelped instead when Danny kicked his shin and glared at Scott until he shut his mouth. 

Derek turned his attention to the cake the waitress brought, digging his fork in; he wasn't going to waste any of Giorgio's cake. After a few minutes, Scott mumbled an apology, and Derek nodded in acknowledgment. He and Stiles stayed only long enough for them both to finish their cake before making their excuses and leaving. 

Once they were in the Camaro, Derek just sat in the driver's seat, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel. "That was relatively painless."

"That's why you're so tense," Stiles quipped, but he was smiling. "Come on, Daddy. Take me home."

The name seemed to relax some of the tension, enough so that Derek could turn the key and quip, "Why? You going to help Daddy relax, brat?"

Stiles's eyes glinted. "I wouldn't be a very good boy if I didn't, would I?"

***

Derek had a few more encounters with Scott, but they were easier to get through with each one. He and Stiles were still spending a lot of time with each other, to the point where Derek was considering asking Stiles to move in with him when the lease on Stiles and Scott's apartment was up. 

Thoughts like those were far from his mind at the moment; he and Stiles were in the spare bedroom, and Derek had given Stiles permission to touch and explore Derek's body to his heart's content, and he was taking full advantage of that. "Fuck," Derek breathed, his stomach clenching and his hands fisting in the sheets. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you, brat?" He knew Stiles was; they'd recently begun employing the traffic system when they'd started experimenting a bit more in the bedroom, and the last check-in had been all green. 

"Any chance to touch you, Daddy," Stiles breathed, smirking. He was currently in between Derek's legs, mapping out the inside of his thigh with lips and gentle teeth. He was working his way higher, towards those delicious abs that he was just dying to taste, and when he finally reached them of course he gave into the urge, slipping his tongue out to give Derek's stomach a long, slow lick.

Derek's arousal fled like rats from a sinking ship. "Red, red, _red_ ," he gasped, scrambling backwards, away from her—no, _Stiles_ , he was with Stiles—and trying to keep his breathing under control. He wasn't have much luck.

Stiles backed off immediately, acutely aware of Derek's distress but completely clueless as to what had caused it. "Okay, okay," he soothed from his new position at the foot of the bed, hands raised to show that he wasn't a threat; that he wasn't going to touch Derek without permission. "You're okay. Derek. What's your safeword?"

Derek sucked in a breath. "Triskele, it's triskele," he answered, his heartbeat starting to calm. He took a few more breaths before consciously relaxing his muscles. "I'm sorry, it just—She did that. A lot."

"It's okay," Stiles promised, once again slipping into the role of caretaker with ease. "I won't do it again. Can I come hold you?"

Derek swallowed and nodded, easily adjusting himself so that they were laying on their sides, Derek wrapped in Stiles's arms. "Thanks," he murmured. "I know you're not her, it's just... hard to separate, sometimes."

Stiles threaded one hand up into Derek's hair, gently massaging his scalp. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "It's my job to take care of you, too." He sighed, wondering how hard he should push. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Derek was quiet for a moment. "It's been a long time," he said uncertainly. "I haven't talked about it with anyone, really."

"It might help," Stiles suggested tentatively. "But if you don't want to, it's okay."

Derek worried his lower lip. "Her name was Kate," he said quietly. "She... We started when I was sixteen. I didn't know anything about BDSM, and at first, we mostly did really light stuff. But she was always pushing."

"She didn't respect your limits," Stiles surmised, now sweeping a hand slowly up and down Derek's back.

Derek nodded. "And... she punished me, for safewording," he added quietly. "Not like when I punish you—She would _punish._ "

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath. "That's so wrong," he breathed, horrified. "Derek, I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to imagine..."

" _Don't_ ," Derek said sharply, looking up and meeting Stiles's gaze. "It happened, it sucked, I know. But it's over."

"You're right," Stiles murmured. "It is. But that clearly doesn't mean you're over it. If there's ever anything I can do to help, just say the word."

Derek smiled gratefully. "Thanks," he murmured. He was quiet for a few minutes before whispering, "Sometimes I miss it. The submission. Not the way she made it, but in the very beginning."

"Yeah?" Stiles asked quietly, gently prompting Derek if he wanted to be prompted. He couldn't just assume here, or push too hard; it would be too like what Kate had done.

Derek nodded. "It was... nice. To have someone else in control, to not have to be in charge of myself, after everything."

Okay, so maybe Stiles could push just a little. "After what everything?"

Derek tensed slightly. "My family died," he said shortly. "Gas leak. Me and Evan were the only ones not home at the time. I'd taken him to Little League practice; I'd just gotten my driver's license, wanted to be a little independent."

"Shit," Stiles hissed, clutching Derek closer. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I know what it's like to lose a parent, but _everyone_..." He cut himself off. Derek didn't need to hear that. "Do you still see your brother?"

Derek moved closer to Stiles, holding onto him just as much as Stiles was holding him. "No. Foster care separated us. The family could only take one, and they chose him. I don't know where he is," he admitted, his voice catching, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

Stiles felt his throat catch, and leaned in to press his lips to Derek's forehead. "You'll find him," he whispered. "I bet he's looking for you, too, and you'll find each other."

"Maybe," Derek murmured. He didn't hold out much hope—the foster system was a bitch to try to crack.

_You can't give up_ , Stiles wanted to protest, _he's your family_ , but that wasn't what they needed to talk about right now; the loss of his brother wasn't what had caused Derek to safeword. "So," he pressed carefully. "How soon after did you meet Kate?"

"Three months," Derek answered, his voice soft. "I got relocated up here, and started hanging with an older crowd. They took me to this club—not the one I met you at. She was older, and just... She seemed like she cared for me."

"Was she your first?" Stiles asked, dreading the answer.

Derek just nodded mutely. "I'd fooled around a bit, before, but she was the first I went all the way with," he elaborated.

Stiles closed his eyes. Derek's introduction to BDSM had also been his introduction to sex, and that was just... incomprehensible. Kate had taken away all of his choices.

Derek looked at Stiles worriedly. "Stiles?" he asked; the younger man's silence was worrying him.

Stiles gave Derek a soft smile. "I just can't believe she did that to you," he murmured. "You were young and vulnerable and you needed someone you could trust, and she totally took advantage of that. How did you get away from her?"

Derek flushed, slightly embarrassed. "Danny," he confessed. "We met at a class my sophomore year, and after we became friends, Kate... got really possessive. Pushed me harder than ever. I finally told Danny, and he knew some people. Got Kate banned from clubs, and helped me get a restraining order."

Stiles nodded, processing this. "He's a good friend," he said at last. "And you did the right thing, getting help."

"He is," Derek agreed. "He's a really good friend."

"I'm so glad you got away," Stiles breathed, a fierce protectiveness rising up within him. "I could kill her for what she put you through."

Derek shook his head, pulling back to look Stiles in the eye. "Don't," he said firmly. "It's over, she's gone. It's not going to help anything if you think like that."

"I'm not _going_ to kill her," Stiles said, pulling Derek back into him. "I just..." He sighed. "I wish I could make it better."

"You do," Derek vowed fervently. "You make it so much better—I trust you, more than I've trusted anyone since her. I didn't think that would happen."

Stiles couldn't even hope to express how much those words meant to him, so he just pulled Derek in for a kiss.

Under normal circumstances, Derek would have reprimanded Stiles for kissing him without permission. Under _these_ circumstances, he just went with it. 

And if his knees got a little weak and his heart stuttered, well, he'd just bared his soul. It was to be expected. 

***

Over the next week, Derek couldn't shake the thought of submitting to Stiles—it scared him, yes, but mostly it really turned him on. He wanted to submit to Stiles, wanted to experience what it would be like to submit to someone he fully trusted, that he knew would never hurt him. 

It took another week before he could bring himself to broach the subject, and when he did, he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest, it was thundering so hard. 

Stiles had been sitting on the couch, flicking through channels on Derek's television, when Derek kneeled on the couch before swinging one leg over Stiles's lap to straddle him. "Stiles?" he asked hesitantly, waiting to see his partner's reaction.

This wasn't something that had ever happened before, Derek putting himself in this position, but Stiles rolled with it as best he could. Derek had called him by his name, so this wasn't a scene. Okay then. Stiles smiled and slid his hands up Derek's thighs, the touch intimate but not necessarily sexual. "Yes, Derek?"

Derek took a deep breath; now or never. "I've been thinking," he started, but then he faltered. He couldn't look Stiles in the eye, so he focused somewhere around his collarbone. "I want to submit to you," he said in a rush, and then held his breath.

Stiles did too, not sure that he'd heard correctly. Had Derek really said that, or was this just some cruel fantasy? Never in his wildest dreams had he dared to imagine this happening, but there was a first time for everything, he supposed. "You want to what?"

Derek flushed and barely managed to keep himself from squirming. "I want to submit. I miss it, and I thought—"

"Hey, hey," Stiles interrupted, giving Derek's thighs a gentle squeeze. "Calm down. It's okay. I'm not gonna say no; I just need to know that you're sure."

Derek took a deep breath before nodding. "I am. I've been thinking about it a lot, and—I meant it, when I said I trusted you. I want to try, at least."

_Jesus Christ._ "Yeah, yeah, okay," Stiles murmured, giving Derek an encouraging smile. "We can try."

Derek looked up finally, and a small smile crept across his face at what he saw in Stiles's. "Thanks," he murmured. "Not... Not right now, but soon, maybe?"

"Maybe," Stiles agreed, bringing a hand up to cup Derek's face. "When you can look me in the eye and ask for what you want; that's when we'll do it."

Derek shivered delicately, but it was in a good way; he'd forgotten what it was like, to have a gentle order given to him and for him to _want_ to obey it. "Okay," he agreed, leaning into Stiles's touch just a little. He appreciated that Stiles was letting him set the terms, letting him control some aspects of it.

Stiles could read all of that on Derek's face, and he thought he could take it just a little further. If they were going to even entertain the idea of doing this, it was important that Derek feel comfortable, like he was safe. "Good boy," he whispered.

Derek's gaze snapped to Stiles's face in surprise. He'd never really been praised much before, even when Kate was still bothering to keep up her little pretense, and he was more than a little shocked at how _strongly_ it affected him; his hips jerked instinctively, and he whined, softly, pleased. He wanted to hear that again.

Stiles stroked a gentle hand through Derek's hair, soothing him. "Soon," he promised. "When you're ready."

***

"Soon" turned into two weeks later, when he and Stiles had the weekend to themselves, and he'd thought a lot about how he wanted to start it off. Derek waited until Stiles was on the couch again before he approached him.

He'd stripped off his shirt, and he kneeled down in front of Stiles, tentatively resting his hands on Stiles's knees. He took a deep breath before looking up to Stiles, making sure to hold eye contact as he said, "I want to submit, Sir."

Stiles had been waiting for this, but as he met Derek's gaze and let his words wash over him, he realised that he wasn't as ready as he'd thought. Still, everyone had to start somewhere, and he was never going to be completely ready until they'd tried this for the first time. He collected himself quickly and smiled down at Derek, his fingers making their way into his dark hair. "Good boy," he praised. "Shall we take this into the spare bedroom?"

Derek nodded, leaning into Stiles's touch. "Please?"

Stiles nodded, encouraging. "Go on," he murmured. "Go and get ready. I'll follow you in a minute."

Derek hesitated. "How ready?" he asked, still on his knees.

"As ready as you feel comfortable with," Stiles answered. "Take your time, and don't push yourself. I'll be happy with whatever you decide."

Derek nodded and got to his feet, walking down the hall with even, measured steps. His heart was still going just a bit too fast for comfort, but he felt freer than he had in a long time, already settling into submission. He hesitated, debating, once he was in the spare bedroom, before he decided to just take his pants off, leaving his boxers on. He kneeled by the bed once he was done, and waited.

Stiles gave them both a few minutes to gather their thoughts and centre themselves before heading into the spare room. What he saw there made his breath catch in his throat. It was a simple picture, Derek kneeling beside the bed in nothing but his underwear, but _Goddamn_ , it was beautiful. _Derek_ was beautiful. Stiles crossed the room and sat down on the bed, resting a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Look at you," he breathed, hushed and reverent. "You're so gorgeous, Derek. How are you doing?"

"Little nervous," Derek admitted, but there was a small smile playing around his mouth. He might have a little bit of a praise kink.

Stiles nodded in understanding and gestured for Derek to get up and sit beside him. "I want us to use the traffic light system," he said calmly. "As well as our safewords. And we need to talk about limits."

Derek nodded, sitting next to Stiles with an odd sense of deja vu. "Okay," he started. "My safeword is still triskele."

"And mine's lacrosse," Stiles confirmed. "Do you actually want to do a scene today, or do you want to just talk?"

Derek thought it over. "I want to try," he said finally. "Just... take it slow. But I don't want to just talk."

Stiles nodded, perfectly okay with that. "But we do need to talk first," he reminded gently. "Have you thought about what you want? What you don't want?"

Derek nodded. "No punishment things—spanking, cock rings, things like that. I'm not ready for any fucking, but... I would like you to play with my ass a little."

Stiles smiled, secretly thrilled at the idea. "Okay, I can do that," he agreed. "Do you want to be tied up, or blindfolded, or do you just want me to touch you?"

Derek shook his head quickly. "No. Just touching."

"All right," Stiles said, leaning in to give Derek a soft kiss. "I want you to take your underwear off and lie on the bed, on your front or on your back, whichever's best for you."

Derek nodded, breathing deeply as he reached for the waistband of his boxers, tugging them off before scooting back on the bed, laying on his back. He trusted Stiles, but he needed to keep Stiles in his line of sight. "Is this okay, Sir?" he asked hesitantly, looking to Stiles for instruction.

"That's perfect, babe," Stiles told him, twisting to kneel on the edge of the bed. Derek wasn't hard yet, but Stiles thought he saw him twitch under the praise. Interesting. He smiled and reached into the bedside drawer for the lube. "What colour?"

"Green," Derek answered, watching Stiles intently. He could feel the arousal starting to hum under his skin, and he let himself relax, trusting Stiles to take care of him.

Pleased, Stiles moved until he was between Derek's legs, encouraging him with a gentle touch to his thigh to spread them. "I want you to keep your hands to yourself," he instructed, even as he slid his own hands over Derek's chest. "But you can make as much noise as you want. Okay?"

Derek nodded, relaxing back into the bed. His fingers twitched, but he kept from moving his hands by grabbing two fistfuls of the sheets and waiting for what Stiles would do next.

Stiles took his time, letting his hands roam over Derek's skin, tweaking his nipples and caressing his abs until he was panting and flushed with arousal. Stiles wanted Derek completely relaxed, listening to the demands of his body rather than the fear in his head, and it looked like it was working. "How're you doing?" he asked at last, hands now resting lightly on Derek's waist. "You ready for me to move on?"

Derek nodded. "Still green," he reassured Stiles, slightly breathless, but it was a good breathless.

Stiles grinned. "Good boy," he breathed, even as he uncapped the lube and spread some over his fingers. "God, you're so good for me." He dropped his hand between Derek's thighs and slid it back until he could rub the tip of a finger over his hole, only just pressing inside.

Derek whined, his hips rocking back on Stiles's finger. He'd had one boyfriend, back in high school, and they'd fooled around a little, and Derek's favorite part had always been when he'd finger Derek. They broke up before they got past that, and Kate had never had any interest in actually putting anything inside his ass. He was grateful for that; it meant he could fully enjoy having Stiles's fingers in his ass. 

"Shhh, I gotcha," Stiles murmured, rubbing Derek's hip with his free hand. "Try and stay still for me, okay? We need to take this slow." Even as he said this, he decided to oblige Derek, carefully working a finger into him.

Derek nodded, the breathy gasps and moans falling from his lips without his consent. He wanted to beg Stiles to go faster, but he hadn't said Derek could speak aside from lights and his safeword, so all Derek could do was whine and rock against Stiles's hand, begging without words.

Stiles huffed, torn between amused and exasperated. "I told you to stay still, remember?" he chided, tightening his hold on Derek's hip.

Derek whimpered, but when Stiles's hold tightened, so did his muscles. "Yellow," he whined, not moving for fear of being reprimanded again.

Stiles immediately loosened his grip, at the same time as he crooked his finger and began his search for Derek's prostate. "Easy, easy," he soothed. "You okay?"

Derek took a deep breath, reminding himself firmly that he was safe, he was with Stiles, Stiles wouldn't punish him. After a moment, he nodded, concentrating on making himself relax.

"Talk to me," Stiles coaxed. "Give me a colour."

Derek hesitated, but he wasn't quite relaxed enough for 'green.' "Still yellow, Sir," he whispered.

"Okay." Stiles stilled his finger inside Derek and began to withdraw. "What do we need to do to get you back to green?"

Derek shook his head. "Don't stop," he begged. "Just—keep going. Please."

Part of Stiles was aching to obey, but the rest of him slammed the brakes on. "Not if you're not on board," he said firmly. "I need you to be into this, too."

"I am," Derek reassured Stiles, and it was true; he was still hard, and he still wanted Stiles's fingers in him, wanted to feel him opening Derek up. "Please," he added, his voice soft as he looked at Stiles pleadingly.

Stiles took a moment to war with himself, and then made up his mind. "Okay," he sighed, "okay. Good boy." He dripped more lube down onto his fingers and returned to Derek's ass with two, carefully working them inside before resuming his search for the spot that would hopefully help Derek to relax.

Derek took a deep breath and leaned back, letting his eyes close as he focused only on the feeling of Stiles's finger in him. His eyes flew open when Stiles's finger scraped over his prostate. "There," he gasped, barely able to keep his hips still. "Right there, Sir, please, do it again."

Stiles grinned and obliged, rubbing the pad of his finger over Derek's prostate again and again.

Derek moaned, fighting to keep himself still under the onslaught of pleasure—he hadn't feel like this in _years_. He could feel Stiles taking him apart, piece by piece, and it was wonderful, great, the best thing he'd ever felt—

Until it wasn't.

Until he felt like he was completely losing control, like he couldn't take that control back. He was frozen, terrified, and he wanted to safeword, but he _couldn't_ , he'd be punished, of course he would, he wasn't allowed to safeword—But that had been when he was with Kate, and he wasn't with her, not anymore, he hadn't been with her for years. He was with Stiles, and Stiles would let him safeword. After that, he couldn't hold it back.

"Red, red, red," he whined, scrambling backwards and ignoring the sting of Stiles's hastily-removed finger. "Fuck, triskele, _triskele_."

Stiles flew to the other end of the bed, making sure that no part of him was touching Derek. "Okay, it's okay," he said hastily. "You're okay. It's over. Breathe."

Derek followed Stiles's instruction, breathing deeply for a few minutes before he felt in-control again. "Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face.

"No," Stiles said firmly. "Do not apologise. You did really well, and it's okay that you had to stop." In the minutes that Derek had taken to collect himself, Stiles had washed his hands and put away the lube so that the only traces of what they'd been doing left were between Derek's thighs. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Derek admitted, watching Stiles move around the room. He was still a bit shaky, but he wasn't quite sure about the cause. "I just—felt like I was getting too overwhelmed, too fast. Losing control."

"That's okay," Stiles repeated calmly, coming to stand beside the bed. "Can I hold you?"

Derek nodded. "Please," he murmured, going willingly into Stiles's arms.

Stiles held him close, reaching back after a minute or two to snag a bottle of water from Derek's stock. "Here," he murmured, uncapping the bottle and offering it to Derek.

Derek took it gratefully, sipping slowly. It gave him something to focus on, and Stiles's arms around him grounded him. "Thanks," he said when he was done, handing the bottle back to Stiles.

"No problem." Stiles put the bottle on the nightstand and replaced his arm around Derek, idly stroking his hip with slow swipes of his thumb. "When you feel ready, I'll clean you up, all right? And then we can talk, if you want to."

Derek nodded; that lube was going to get really annoying really fast. Still, it was a while before he was willing to let Stiles further away from him than absolutely necessary. After Stiles was done cleaning him and was back on the bed, Derek sighed. "Guess I've got more issues about control than I thought."

Stiles nodded in agreement, stroking Derek's hair. "I get it, though," he murmured. "It's completely understandable. Just means we have some stuff to work through—if you still want to."

Derek thought it over for a moment before he said anything. Yes, he'd been fucking terrified at the thought of losing control, but he'd also been been enjoying himself before then, and he wanted to know what it felt like to truly submit to Stiles. "I want to," he admitted. "Maybe not for a while, but I do want to try again."

Stiles kissed Derek's temple. "When you're ready," he promised softly. "Only when you're ready."

***

Two weeks later, Derek still wasn't ready. Not that Stiles minded, he would never push Derek to do something he didn't want to and he liked their regular set-up just fine, but since the first—and admittedly disastrous—time Derek had tried submitting to Stiles, something had changed. The fear of losing the control he'd clung onto so fiercely all these years had really shaken Derek, and seemed to have resulted in him tightening his control on everything else—including Stiles.

It wasn't like Derek was abusive. He still respected Stiles' limits, and took care of him after scenes, and listened to him when he gave a colour or expressed a concern or said no—but everything had become very intense very fast, and Stiles felt like he was standing on unstable ground. Before they'd tried switching things up, they'd managed to develop an easy friendship and a closeness that was almost completely removed from their play, but that wasn't the case now. Yesterday, Derek had paddled Stiles for almost an hour because he'd tried to go in for a kiss without permission while they were fixing breakfast. The day before, he'd been reprimanded for using Derek's name, once again outside of a scene. Everything that was happening between them was still consensual, and Stiles enjoyed it, but he still felt like something had to give. He felt stifled, like he hadn't signed up for such an intensive experience, and he understood what Derek was doing, but it just couldn't continue. So he decided to confront him.

"Daddy?" Stiles asked tentatively, avoiding eye contact like he was supposed to. Derek had just come into the living room after taking a shower, his hair damp and his feet bare, and he looked equal parts adorable and unbelievably sexy. Stiles kind of wanted to curl up with him on the sofa and just watch some TV, but that was another thing that wasn't happening lately. He sighed, his resolve strengthening. "Can I talk to you about something?"

Derek glanced over at Stiles, nodding before he settled on the couch, ignoring the remote on the arm. "Sure, brat," he said easily, patting the cushion beside him. "What's on your mind?"

Stiles stared at his lap, not sure what to say now that he had Derek's attention. "Things have been different lately," he said at last, slow and careful. "And I'm not comfortable with it."

Derek nodded slowly; he knew he'd been acting differently than usual, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. "Okay," he said, careful to make sure he didn't seem anything but open and non-confrontational. "What, exactly, is different?" He needed to know so that he could work on adjusting his behavior.

Stiles sighed again. "I feel like we're never not in a scene," he confessed. "I can't call you anything but Daddy and you get mad when I try to act familiar with you. We don't ever just relax as ourselves, as friends—we're always Dom and sub, and I know being a sub is about letting go and giving up control, but when it's all day every day I'm here, it's _exhausting_. You're—It's like you're smothering me."

Derek was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely. "I hadn't realized I was being _that_ demanding. I don't mean to smother you, I've just—what happened, it scared the hell out of me. But that's not an excuse."

"I understand," Stiles said softly, peeking over at Derek. "I really do. If you never want to try submitting to me again, then that's okay, but I can't keep doing this. Please don't make me keep doing this."

Derek reached over to take Stiles's hand. "I won't," he promised. "I want you to feel comfortable and safe—and I'm sorry that I haven't made you feel that way these past weeks."

"It's okay." Stiles squeezed Derek's hand and shuffled a little closer to him, wanting to go into his arms but not sure if that was allowed. "I just missed you."

Derek tugged on Stiles hand, looking at him questioningly, his other arm open in invitation. "I missed you, too." He hadn't realized how true those words were until just now.

Stiles went willingly, the tightness in his chest that he hadn't even noticed loosening as soon as Derek's arms came around him. Whether it was because things were no longer tense between him and his Dom, or because he was being allowed to be close to Derek again, he didn't know—he just knew that he couldn't bear it if Derek let go.

Derek rubbed Stiles's back soothingly, pulling the younger man as close to him as possible. "Thank you," he murmured. "For talking to me."

"Thank you for listening," Stiles whispered, and closed his eyes.

***

Derek and Stiles settled back into their previous rhythm easily, and Derek was happy about most of it. The only thing he wasn't happy about was the fact that he and Stiles hadn't tried Derek submitting in a scene since they'd talked. Derek was determined to change that—Stiles deserved the chance to see what it was like to be the Dom. 

When Stiles came to the apartment after class, Derek was waiting for him in the living room. He was kneeling beside the couch, and he looked up at Stiles, careful to keep his expression calm. "I want to try again, Sir."

Just like the first time, Stiles was momentarily struck dumb, but he pulled himself together quickly and slipped into the role that Derek needed him to take with ease. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly, holding Derek's gaze.

Derek nodded. "Positive."

Stiles smiled. "Okay. You know what to do."

Derek nodded, getting to his feet and walking down the hall to the spare bedroom. Unlike the first time, he stripped completely, and then waited, kneeling, with his eyes downcast, for Stiles.

Stiles followed a few minutes later, and was honestly surprised by what he saw—but he was pleased. "Good boy," he praised, sitting down on the bed. "Come sit with me, tell me what you want."

Derek lifted himself to the bed, sitting close to Sir but not touching him. "I want the same as last time—I want you to finger me, and then fuck me."

Stiles blinked. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked incredulously. "Are you sure?"

Derek nodded. "Yes," he said firmly.

Stiles let out a slow breath. "Okay. Lie down: hands to yourself, stay as still as you can, make all the noise you want."

Derek nodded obediently before scooting back on the bed so that he could lay down a bit more comfortably. He kept his hands resting by his sides and looked up at the ceiling, tracking Sir's movement out of the corner of his eye.

Stiles was quick to grab the lube and get situated between Derek's legs. Just like last time, he spent a good while teasing Derek until he was hard and flushed with arousal. This time was a little different, though. While his body was clearly begging for what he'd asked for at the start, his eyes were... distant. Disengaged, somehow. Was this what Stiles looked like when he was in subspace? "Derek," Stiles murmured, and then again a little louder, calling him back. "You need to give me a colour before we go any further."

Derek blinked once, slowly. "Green," he answered, spreading his legs further. He'd felt everything Sir did to him, but it also felt like it was happening to someone else. 

Reassured, Stiles nodded and slicked up his fingers. He circled one of them against Derek's entrance before pressing it into him, carefully watching his face for any sign of discomfort.

Derek's mouth twitched in mild discomfort at the slight burn and stretch, but he quickly schooled his expression back into that detached expression he'd affected before, concentrating on breathing deeply and relaxing his muscles. 

And so it continued. Stiles took his time opening Derek up, keeping a close eye on his reactions. They were few and far between, but every time Stiles asked, Derek gave the colour green, insisting that he was okay and that he wanted to keep going. Something about the lack of light in Derek's eyes was making Stiles uncomfortable, but Derek wasn't asking him to stop, so he supposed that it was normal. Subspace was like going to another place, right? So it made sense that Derek would look like he wasn't really in the room with him. At least, that was what Stiles kept telling himself.

When Derek was finally ready, Stiles hopped off the bed to get undressed and grab a condom. When he returned, that awkward uncertainty still squirming in his gut, he decided to ask once again. "Hey, babe. You still with me?"

Derek startled when Sir spoke; he hadn't even realized Sir had left the bed. "W—What? I mean—yes, yes Sir."

Alarm bells instantly started ringing in Stiles' head. "Give me a colour," he instructed, praying that Derek would be honest.

For the first time, Derek hesitated at the sound of Sir's voice. "Green," he answered finally.

Unlike Derek, Stiles didn't need to hesitate. "Lacrosse."

Derek blinked at Sir—no, Stiles. He wanted to protest, but safewords were not to be questioned. He carefully sat up, watching Stiles warily. "Stiles?"

"Derek." Stiles sighed, moving to sit beside him on the bed. "You don't want this."

"What? No, I do," Derek protested.

"No, you don't," Stiles told him. "I don't know why you're acting like you do, but you _don't_ , and I'm a dick for not seeing it sooner." He met and held Derek's gaze, leaving him nowhere to hide. "Derek, what are you doing?"

"Submitting," Derek answered, but it was hesitant, confused.

Stiles' stomach dropped. "No," he murmured, taking Derek's hand. "Submitting like that isn't what I want from you. You didn't like it, Derek; you weren't enjoying it. And if it's not good for you, then it's not good for me."

Derek worried his lower lip, not looking at Stiles. "I wanted to submit to you," he said quietly. 

"Why?" Stiles asked, just as quiet as Derek.

Derek sighed. "I've never experienced subspace," he confessed quietly. "I want to. And I want to think of _you_ when I sub, not... Not her."

Stiles squeezed Derek's hand. "Okay," he said softly. "And I want to help you experience it. But whatever that was, right there, that isn't subspace. Subspace is... freedom. It isn't trapping yourself in your own head; it isn't forcing yourself to submit because you think it's what your Dom wants."

Derek nodded. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have put you in that position."

"You don't get it," Stiles argued. "It isn't that I don't want _me_ to be in that position. I don't want _you_ to be in it." But something about his own words sparked something inside his head, and he hissed in a sharp breath. "Derek, is this about what happened after the last time we tried to switch?" Derek didn't say anything, but the way he turned his head away from Stiles guiltily said it for him. "Oh, Derek," Stiles whispered, feeling his heart sink. "You don't need to punish yourself for that, especially not like this. It's been dealt with, and we're okay now—that's all that matters. I won't let you put yourself through something like that because you feel like you deserve it. You _don't_."

Derek hesitantly looked back at Stiles, searching his expression intently. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he felt like he found it, because the tightness in his chest eased a bit, and he found himself leaning in toward Stiles, a soft whimper escaping.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Stiles took Derek into his arms and held him close. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly. "It's okay."

Derek relaxed into Stiles readily, sighing softly. He was really glad that he'd decided to take on Stiles all those months ago, and to keep him after their first contract expired. He honestly couldn't imagine trying to switch with anyone else.

***

Surprisingly, it didn't take as long as Stiles expected for Derek to decide he wanted to try again. Stiles had thought for sure that Derek would shy away from the idea for a good while, and he wouldn't have blamed him at all—last time had left them both pretty shaken. But it was Sunday afternoon a week after Derek had used submitting to Stiles as a punishment, and he was acting weird.

Stiles knew the signs. The averted gaze, the hesitancy, the way he kept opening his mouth to speak but then closing it again. Derek was afraid of rejection, and that could only mean one thing: he wanted to submit. It was a difficult situation for the both of them. Derek clearly knew that Stiles would be hesitant to agree after last time, unsure that it was what he really wanted, and so he didn't want to bring it up—but for the same reason, Stiles couldn't bring it up for him. He could prompt him, though.

"Derek," Stiles said sharply, with authority, after Derek had been hovering in the doorway of the kitchen for a good five minutes, just watching him wash the dishes. "Is there something you need?"

Derek startled at Stiles's words, but then he made himself relax as much as he could as he walked over to Stiles, stopping a few feet away to lean against the counter. "Yes," he started, and he almost had to force the rest of the sentence from his throat. "I need you."

Stiles dried his hands on a towel and turned to face Derek, opening his arms with a smile. "What do you need me to do?"

Derek went readily into Stiles's arms. It was easier to speak with his face buried in Stiles's shoulder, despite the fact that he had to speak a little louder to be heard clearly. "I need you to take me apart and put me back together."

A smile twitched at the corner of Stiles' lips. This was different than last time: he could hear the sincerity in Derek's words; could feel in the way Derek's body relaxed into his that he was ready. "I think that can be arranged," Stiles said slowly, his heart hammering. "Why don't we go to the spare room together this time?"

Derek nodded. "Please."

Slowly, carefully, Stiles released Derek from his hold, and held out his hand instead. "Come on."

Derek took Stiles's hand, smiling at him gratefully as he followed him down the hall. Derek was kind of amazed at how much of a difference it made, walking into the spare _with_ Stiles, instead of before him. He hesitated once they were inside. "What do you want me to do, Sir?" he asked, not letting go of Stiles's hand just yet.

Stiles thought for a second, looking down at their hands. The other times they'd tried this, he'd let Derek keep some control, letting him walk into the room on his own and decide for himself what clothes he took off—but what if he took that away? He raised their hands to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of Derek's, and looked up to meet his gaze. "I want you to tell me if I say anything that makes you even remotely uncomfortable," he said firmly. "And I want you to get undressed."

Derek shivered, but it was a good shiver. He nodded, taking a step back from Stiles to take off his clothes and toss them into a corner of the room. When he was done, he took a deep breath and licked his lips, his heartbeat elevated but not in panic. "What now, Sir?"

"Kneel beside the bed," Stiles instructed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "Hands behind your back, eyes on the floor." Derek followed Stiles's instructions, sinking to his knees in front of his Dom. He waited patiently for the next instructions, a flush of arousal spreading over his skin. Stiles' breath caught at the sheer beauty of Derek's submission, and reached down to thread his fingers into Derek's hair. "Good boy," he praised softly. "Now, what are your limits for today?"

Derek thought for a second. "No punishments, no fucking," he said quietly but firmly. "I just want you to touch me, Sir."

Stiles nodded, pleased that Derek wasn't trying to push himself too hard. "Okay. Lie on your front in the middle of the bed, and hold onto the headboard. Now."

Derek obeyed, crawling up the bed until he could lie comfortably and grip the headboard. He waited, head turned to one side, wondering what Stiles was going to do. This already felt much better than either of their previous attempts—Derek already felt safe, and more and more reassured with each order Stiles gave him.

Stiles gave Derek a minute to adjust before climbing onto the bed and moving to straddle his lower back. "Colour?" he asked.

"Green," Derek said confidently.

The surety in Derek's voice was all Stiles needed to hear. He began to touch Derek, smoothing his hands along Derek's sides and over his back, his shoulders. His fingertips skimmed up Derek's muscled arms until Stiles' long fingers could fold over Derek's, and then Stiles was leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck. "And now?" he breathed.

Derek smiled, relaxing into the bed. "Still green," he murmured.

Stiles returned the smile against Derek's throat, and then proceeded to work his way back down his sub's body, worshiping his skin with soft kisses and gentle nips. "You're such a good boy," he sighed, slipping his tongue out to taste the sweat that had gathered at the base of Derek's spine. "Such a beautiful sub. How does it feel, being under me like this?"

Derek shifted slightly under Stiles's mouth. "Good," he breathed. "So good. Feel safe."

"You are," Stiles promised, his heart full to the brim with how proud he was of Derek; how much they both felt that it was true. "You're safe, baby." He sat up, enjoying the rustle of his clothes against Derek's bare skin, and moved away to kneel on the edge of the bed. "Turn over for me, yeah? Wanna see you."

Derek did, and looked up at Stiles questioningly. "Do I still need to hold the headboard, Sir?"

"Yes, you do," Stiles answered, smiling. When Derek complied, he grabbed the lube and set it to one side before straddling Derek once more, a knee on either side of his hips. "Colour?"

"Green," Derek answered, adjusting his grip on the headboard as he watched Stiles's hands attentively.

"Good boy." Stiles resumed his task, first touching and then kissing Derek everywhere. He made sure to keep his tongue to himself when he reached Derek's abs, but he skated featherlight kisses along them, interspersed with soft, soothing words, and then spent a good few minutes playing with Derek's nipples as a reward.

Derek had tensed when Stiles skated over his abdomen, but when he didn't lick, only kissed, he had relaxed. He was currently whining, high-pitched, his chest arching into Stiles's fingers. "Please, Sir," he groaned, his cock twitching. "Don't stop."

Stiles obliged, rolling one nipple between thumb and forefinger while he lowered his mouth to the other and flicked his tongue over it. "You're sensitive here, aren't you?" he asked, before blowing softly. "Could you come from this?"

Derek whimpered, panting slightly. "Don't know, Sir," he gasped, hips twitching. "Never—Never tried before."

Stiles could tell that the last of Derek's control was starting to slip, and while he was interested to find out if he could push Derek over the edge just by playing with his nipples, it might be a bad idea to risk overwhelming him this time. "We'll try that another day," he promised softly, capturing Derek's lips in a heated kiss before backing off once more and grabbing the lube. "I have something else in mind right now."

Derek nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief as he gathered himself back from the edge. He wanted to submit, but he didn't want to lose control that quickly. "Thank you, Sir," he murmured, watching Stiles attentively.

Stiles kissed him again, stretching out along Derek's side as he squeezed lube into his palm and reached for Derek's cock. "I still want you to come, though," he said, stroking slowly. "You want me to make you come, babe?"

Derek nodded, feeling a little desperate. "Please, Sir, I want to come."

Stiles drizzled some more lube into his hand and then returned to his task, jacking Derek nice and easy. His grip was loose and slick, his fist just gliding over Derek's flesh; Stiles was willing to let him come, but he wasn't above drawing it out.

Derek whined, frustrated, as he bucked his hips, trying to get more friction. "Please, Sir, I need it tighter," he whimpered.

"Shhh," Stiles soothed, tightening his grip only a fraction. "Relax. I'll get you there; just let it happen."

Derek whined, but he let himself relax, trusting Stiles. He could feel himself getting closer with every stroke, until he was dancing along the edge. "Please, Sir, I need to come," he whimpered. "I need to come; can I come, Sir, please?"

"Yes," Stiles breathed. "Show me what a good boy you are, and come for me."

Stiles's words let Derek go, and he came with a hoarse shout, his back arching and the muscles in Derek's arms tensing with the strain. When he was done, Derek collapsed back against the bed, panting heavily.

Stiles had never seen anyone fall apart as perfectly as Derek just did. It was truly a privilege to be permitted to see it, to _cause_ it, and Stiles was in awe. "Mets won the championship," he murmured breathlessly, bending to kiss Derek's slack lips. "That looked like it felt good."

It took Derek a moment to reply, mostly because he was focusing on relaxing his fingers enough that he could release the headboard. Once he had and was stretching them, he nodded, smiling at Stiles. "It really, really did," he said, feeling more than a bit giddy.

Stiles grinned, shifting to sit cross-legged  beside Derek and pulling a hand into his lap. "You were amazing," he said sincerely, gently manipulating Derek's fingers to get the blood flowing again. "Absolutely amazing. Just—thank you, for letting me be a part of that."

Derek smiled shyly. "Thank you, for trying again," he returned. He shifted so he was closer to Stiles; it hadn't been a really intense scene, but he needed the physical contact nonetheless.

"I wasn't gonna give up on you," Stiles murmured, running a comforting hand through Derek's hair. "Let me clean you up, and then we can cuddle, okay?"

Derek nodded, stretching out and letting Stiles clean him up. Once Stiles was done, Derek curled into him readily, throwing one arm over Stiles's chest. "'m really glad I chose to keep you," he murmured, tucking himself in along Stiles's side.

Me too," Stiles said, grinning as he wrapped his arms around Derek and pulled him in closer. Three words flowed to the tip of his tongue, taking him completely by surprise even though they felt like the most natural thing in the world. He didn't know if Derek would want to hear them, though, or even if he really meant them, so he choked them back and chose a different route. "How are you feeling?"

Derek thought the question over for a moment. "Good," he decided. "I'm feeling really good." His brain was still a bit too scrambled to think of any better adjectives.

Stiles laughed and kissed Derek's forehead. "Good," he said. "So am I."

***

Derek jumped when the doorbell rang. He and Stiles had been curled up on the couch, the television playing softly in the background unheeded as they dozed. Derek poked Stiles in the side as the doorbell rang again. "Go get it," he mumbled, shifting sleepily. "See who it is."

"Bossy," Stiles complained, but he did as he was told, brushing his lips along Derek's cheek before unfolding himself from the sofa and stumbling to the door. He was still half asleep, but the sight that greeted him when he opened it was more than enough to wake him up. "Scott. And Allison?"

Allison smiled sweetly. "Hey Stiles. Scott and I got bored hanging around the apartment, so we thought we'd come and see if you and Derek wanted to double date?"

Stiles was vaguely horrified by the idea. Not only were he and Derek not actually _together_ and therefore completely unaccustomed to going on dates together, let alone with other people, but they were still recovering from a pretty intense scene that had included Stiles being handcuffed to the headboard and edged until he'd cried. He really didn't want to go out, and he doubted that Derek did either—but he couldn't turn his friends away. "Uhh," he said stupidly. "Come on in, I guess."

Derek propped himself up until he could look over the couch when he heard the door close. He got to his feet, coming over to stand next to Stiles, wrapping an arm around his waist as he offered Scott and the girl a smile. "Scott," he greeted. "Who's this?"

"My girlfriend, Allison," Scott said proudly, grinning at Allison.

"They want us to double date," Stiles said darkly, leaning into Derek.

Allison laughed. "Or we could just hang out here. Anything, as long as we're out of that apartment."

Stiles didn't really understand that. He was never home on the weekends, so there was absolutely no reason that Scott and Allison couldn't spend the whole time having sex—how could they possibly be bored? Then again, maybe vanilla sex did get boring after a while. Stiles wouldn't know; he and Derek never did the same thing twice. "Well, okay," he said slowly. "I guess it must get tedious, looking at the same face all the time." It didn't when he was looking at Derek, but everyone was different.

It was the right thing to say; Allison's face lit up. "Right? I've been staying with Scott because my aunt came to visit and _insisted_ on crashing at my place. She kept me cooped up in the apartment for like a week and then wanted to spend the weekend partying—I swear, I'm going stir crazy." She rolled her eyes and shrugged, an exasperated gesture that Stiles could immediately translate to, _Grownups_. "So hanging out with you guys is okay?"

Derek nodded. "I'm okay with it." It wasn't like he and Stiles had anything planned besides cuddling and maybe getting food at some point. "If it's okay with Stiles, you guys can hang out here."

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, it's cool with me."

Derek rubbed a soothing hand up and down Stiles's back. "I've got Netflix," he said, herding Stiles back toward the couch and pulling him into his lap. Allison and Scott took the loveseat, and Derek pulled up _The Avengers_ for approval. When it was approved, he hit play.

Twenty minutes in, Scott spoke up, "Where's your bathroom?"

Stiles had already drifted into a light doze, his head resting on Derek's shoulder, but now he cracked one eye open to look at Scott. "Down the hall, on the left."

Scott nodded, getting up with a quick kiss to Allison's temple. He encountered a dilemna, however—there were two doors on the left side of the hall. He looked back and forth between them, debating, then chose the second one. Luckily, it was correct—but once he was done, he became curious about what was behind the first door. 

He wished he hadn't looked. There was something that looked like a sawhorse with cuffs attached to its legs, a large dresser with a couple of open drawers—he could see a riding crop and what looked like a whip in one—and on the bed were two pairs of handcuffs, an open tube of lube, and a— _very_ —large dildo. Scott backed out of the room and shut the door quickly, his face flaming as he walked back into the living room and sat down next to Allison.

"Everything all right there, Scotty?" Stiles asked, frowning quizzically at the look on his friend's face.

"Yep," Scott said, a little too quickly. 

Derek eyed the flush staining Scott's face. "You don't look fine," he commented.

Allison put a hand on Scott's arm, concerned. "Baby. What is it?"

Scott mumbled something under his breath, and Derek suddenly got a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. "Did you go in the spare bedroom?"

Stiles' jaw dropped. " _Scott_!"

"What?" Allison looked from the other couple to her boyfriend, lost. "What's in the spare bedroom?"

Derek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Scott refused to answer, so Derek did it for him: "Our equipment."

It took Allison a second to process this, but then she flushed bright red too. "Oh," she said, and to Stiles' surprise, hid her smile behind her hand. Then she turned to Scott. "I told you."

Scott muttered under his breath, and Derek looked at Allison in surprise. "How did you know?"

Allison shrugged. "It was obvious," she said vaguely. "I know about the lifestyle through a friend, and from what Scott's told me and what I've seen myself, it's pretty clear that Stiles is the biggest sub on the planet."

Derek stared at Allison, his arms tightening protectively around Stiles. "Excuse me?" he demanded.

Allison looked surprised by the hostility in Derek's voice. "I mean, are you telling me that faraway look he gets sometimes when he's out with us isn't because you've got him doing something that's put him in subspace?"

"How do you know he's not thinking of something he's doing to _me_?" Derek challenged.

Allison actually laughed at that. "You're kidding, right? Stiles is _not_ a Dominant."

" _Oh my God_!" Stiles cried, embarrassed and angry. "That is enough discussion of my sex life to last me a lifetime. Can we _please_ just watch the movie?"

"Please God," Scott agreed, looking desperately regretful about his snooping. 

Derek shot Allison one last hard look before resettling himself and Stiles. "Sorry," he murmured apologetically, just loud enough for Stiles to hear.

Stiles twisted in Derek's hold to give him a soft kiss, effectively blocking Allison from his view for a few seconds. "She didn't mean anything by it," he whispered. "Just enjoy the movie."

Derek grumbled wordlessly, but settled nonetheless, keeping his arms firmly around Stiles's waist. It was irrational, really, to feel threatened by the fact that now Allison and Scott knew, as well as Danny, that he and Stiles were in a BDSM relationship—but he didn't want them to think that that was all Derek wanted out of the relationship, because it wasn't. He genuinely liked—and lately, there was another "l" word coming to mind—Stiles, even the more annoying parts. 

***

Scott and Allison did the smart thing and said their goodbyes once the movie was over; Stiles did the right thing and left Derek on the sofa while he showed them to the door. Scott embraced him before he left the apartment, but Allison lingered, looking unsure.

"Listen," she began quietly. "I'm really sorry if I upset Derek back there. I didn't mean to—I don't think that you being a sub is something to be ashamed of, or anything."

Stiles grimaced. He had a feeling that that wasn't what Derek was upset over, but he couldn't very well tell Allison that he wasn't just a sub without betraying Derek. Not even Danny knew that Derek was experimenting with subbing again, and Stiles just couldn't do that to him.  "It's okay," he reassured her instead, giving her his most sincere fake smile. "I'm sure he knows that. He just gets protective; you know how it is."

Allison smiled back, convinced. "Yeah, I get it. But I'm still sorry, Stiles."

"It's fine," Stiles insisted. "Really. But I don't think your boyfriend is; he might need your help bleaching his brain."  Allison giggled, and it was easy to get her to leave after that. Stiles felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he finally shut the door behind her, followed almost immediately by a nauseating sense of trepidation. He walked back into the living room to find Derek exactly where he'd left him, wearing his very best thunder face. _Great_. "Well, that was fun, huh?" he hedged, sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa.

Derek leveled Stiles with an unimpressed look. "I suppose it could have been worse," he commented after a moment. "They could have walked in on the middle of a scene."

Stiles winced. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" he asked. "Okay, so Allison assumed that I'm exclusively a sub, but we both know that's not true. And the only reason I hadn't told Scott the truth is that I didn't want to have to explain it to him, talk about _awkward_ , and we have Allison for that now. It's not like I'm ashamed that we're in this kind of relationship." He hesitated as something new occurred to him. "Are _you_ ashamed?"

"What? No!" Derek looked at Stiles incredulously. "How could I be? I just—I didn't like her immediately filing you under an exclusive sub." 

Stiles shrugged. "I could have told her that I'm not, but I didn't think you'd be comfortable with that," he admitted. "Besides, it's not like she's the world's greatest authority on the subject of Stiles Stilinski. She doesn't know me very well at all; she pays more attention to Scott, and so do I. What she said doesn't mean anything."

Derek was quiet for a moment. "I guess you're right," he said finally. "Still, I just didn't expect Scott to go nosing around the apartment."

"Neither did I," Stiles admitted, smiling. "But it serves him right. He'll definitely know better next time."

***

Stiles reported that Scott acted weird for the next day or two, and then it seemed like he'd just forgotten about his discovery and the ensuing argument—unless Derek texted Stiles something that made him get that "faraway look" in his eyes. About a week after that, Derek and Stiles successfully completed Derek's second scene subbing. They'd taken it a little further this time—this time, Derek had come with Stiles's finger in his ass, rubbing against his prostate. Afterward, they were cuddling on the bed, and Derek was taking the opportunity to run his hands over every part of Stiles's body that he could reach, his face buried in Stiles's neck, just breathing deeply.

Stiles was trying to return the touches, wanting to show the same level of affection, but he just couldn't keep up. It was kind of adorable. "I don't know why," he murmured, smiling fondly, when Derek nuzzled up under his chin, "but it always surprises me that you're so cuddly after a scene. I should've known from the start that the growly exterior is just a front; you're really just a big puppy, aren't you?"

Derek had been smiling softly until Stiles's last words—as soon as they registered, he tensed, pushing off of Stiles to sit up. "Red," he spat, his heartbeat racing. He didn't back away from Stiles, but it was a near thing; his mind was telling him that he needed to get away, needed to protect himself, or he was going to be punished— _You're just a big puppy, Der-bear, that's all. Disgusting, really—look at you, you should be a man, after everything you've been through. Maybe you need some more toughening up_. He bit his lower lip hard enough to almost draw blood, and he clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe deeply.

Relaxed and basking in the afterglow of a successful scene, it took Stiles a few seconds to catch up with what was happening, but then he was on high alert, kneeling in front of Derek with his hands up to show that he wasn't a threat. "Okay, okay, you're okay," he said quickly, racking his brain for what he could possibly have said to produce this reaction. "I need you to calm down, Derek, look at me. Look at me. You're safe, okay? You're safe, Derek."

Derek nodded, pulling in deep breaths. "Okay," he whispered, looking up at Stiles. "Sorry, I just—Bad memories."

Stiles' hands fluttered over Derek's skin, desperate to touch but not sure if he was allowed to. The fear in Derek's eyes was actually scaring Stiles, and he was devastated to think that he'd done something to put it there. "Don't apologise," he said shakily. "It's not your fault. Can you tell me what I did, so I don't do it again?"

It took several minutes before Derek could finally manage to push out, "Don't call me a puppy." Even that much was enough to make him cringe, instinctively waiting for the punishment for even daring to mention that word this soon after a scene.

But no punishment came. Stiles just blinked, and nodded. "Okay," he murmured soothingly. "I won't, I swear. I'm really sorry, Derek."

Derek watched Stiles warily for a moment before nodding. "Okay," he murmured.

Stiles let out a shaky breath, and willed his heart to stop racing. Derek clearly wasn't going to be capable of talking about this, but Stiles was scared; he didn't know what to do. So he caved, and asked. "What do you need, Derek?"

Derek hesitated. "Hold me?" he asked tentatively.

A wave of relief crashed over Stiles. "Of course," he murmured, opening his arms. "Come here."

Derek moved forward, nearly crashing into Stiles's arms. He was shaking slightly, and he made himself take deep breaths, trying to calm down, reminding himself that he was with _Stiles_ , not Kate.

Stiles held Derek to him, running soothing hands over his skin and murmuring nonsense into his ear. They were both freaked out, but nothing mattered more than calming Derek down. Stiles only wished he knew exactly what had freaked him out.

***

Scott eyed Stiles curiously. It was almost a month after he'd accidentally—although Danny refused to believe it was an accident, the fucker—walked into Stiles and Derek's... spare bedroom. Allison had told him before that Stiles and Derek didn't exactly have the same kind of sex that they did, but he'd brushed it off with a "Well duh; they're gay." Obviously that had been not entirely correct. 

"How long have you and Derek been together?" he asked curiously.

"Umm, since the first time I said I was housesitting with him," Stiles answered around a mouthful of cheesecake. The café was out of chocolate cake today. "We met at a club a little while before that—" His gaze slid to Danny and then away. "—and did a scene, but we didn't start doing anything official until that weekend. It was only a temporary contract at the time."

"'Was'?" Scott pressed, ignoring Danny stomping on his foot.  

Stiles nodded, glancing at Danny again. They hadn't told anyone about this part, but he didn't feel like he shouldn't. Scott wouldn't really know what it meant, and Danny was a good friend of both Stiles' and Derek's. "We decided to give exclusive play a shot for four months, but we kind of kept it going for closer to five," he confessed. "Didn't realise the contract was up until way past the deadline, and we freaked out about it a little bit, but then we decided that we wanted to renew the contract on a long-term basis, with no end date."

Danny's eyes widened in understanding, but Scott just made an interested noise. "So are you guys like, dating, or are you just fuckbuddies?"

Stiles sighed. "Neither," he answered softly. "What we do needs a lot more trust and affection than simple fuckbuddies, but we're not, like, in love or anything." _At least, Derek isn't_.

Danny tilted his head, thinking, and Scott nodded. "Makes sense. But why are you still with him if you're not in love?"

"Because it's worth it," Stiles said simply, feeling the truth of his words deep in his bones. "I mean, if he meets someone further down the line and wants to be with them, then of course I'll let him go, but for now why mess with a good thing? What Derek and I have is amazing. We don't have to be in love to be happy."

Scott opened his mouth to add something, but he snapped it closed when he saw Derek coming through the café doors. Derek, for his part, raised one eyebrow at the look on Scott's face before coming up behind Stiles. "You almost ready to go? Movie starts in half an hour."

Stiles grinned. "Yeah, sure," he said, twisting in his seat to offer Derek a spoonful of cheesecake. "You want the last bite?"

Derek took the offered bite, making a surprised noise. "That's good," he said, swallowing. "I'll have to get it next time I come here."

"Only if they're out of chocolate cake again," Stiles told him seriously, standing up and turning back to his friends. "I'll see you guys on Monday, okay? Scott, please do not forget that you have a paper to write."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, go on, get. Go out on your date," he said smirking slightly. 

Derek rolled his own eyes. "Have fun writing that paper. Nice seeing you, Danny," he said with a little wave at the other man as he led Stiles away.

The movie theatre was only a minutes' walk away, and it was late enough on a Friday afternoon that there were plenty of people on the streets, meaning that they had to make their way in relative silence. Not that Stiles could be kept quiet for long. "So Scott finally cracked," he told Derek cheerfully once they were in line for their tickets. "Hit me with all these questions about when we got together and how our relationship works if we're not spending half our time making moon-eyes at each other and planning how to fit our multiple assbabies in your apartment. It was adorable."

Derek laughed. "I bet," he said, grinning. "Scott's just.. Well, an overgrown puppy, really." When he was poking fun at someone, it was easy to compare someone, even himself, to a puppy—but when he was in a scene, or just after, he couldn't even bring himself to say the word. 

"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Der-bear?"

Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around to face the woman behind them in the line. The hot, older woman with a dirty smirk and a sadistic glint in her eyes, who was staring at Derek like she wanted to eat him for dinner. Stiles didn't even have to ask to know who she was.

"My, my," Kate drawled, dragging her gaze down Derek's body before returning it to his face. "This one grew up in all the right places. I don't know whether to kick it, or lick it." She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and if this had been anyone else, the move would have brought Stiles to his knees. "You used to like it when I licked you, didn't you, Puppyboy?"

Derek didn't know whether to flee or crumple or lash out—his brain had shut down, and his instincts were conflicting with each other. On the one hand, he wanted to get the hell out of here, away from _her_ ; on the other, he _needed_ to stay, to protect Stiles. "'Used to' being the key term," he finally managed to say, but it didn't come out anywhere near as confidently as he'd hoped.

Stiles had no idea what the fuck was going on, but he could tell that Derek was tense as all hell, and they needed to leave as soon as possible. But how to get away from Kate without causing a scene?

"I bet you'd still like it, given half the chance," she was saying. "I bet you'd beg. Would you _beg_ , Derek?"

"Not for you," Derek snapped, edging closer to Stiles. Desperately, he wished he had renewed the restraining order, so he could threaten her with it without lying—he'd always sucked at lying.

Stiles took Derek's hand, hoping to offer him strength and comfort, but all he did was draw Kate's attention onto himself.

"And who's this?" she asked, amused. "Don't tell me. You beg for _him_ now, Puppy? My God, this is priceless."

"Back off, bitch," Stiles snarled, stepping between Derek and Kate, who just laughed in his face.

"Oh, please, _please_ tell me he gets on his knees for you. I would _pay_ to see that. Oh, Derek." She sighed mournfully, shaking her head, but the smirk didn't leave her lips. "You've fallen a long way since you had me, haven't you?"

"Stiles," Derek murmured, tugging on his hand. "She's not worth it."

"You're kidding, right?" Stiles asked incredulously. "After what she did to you? She deserves everything she gets."

Kate laughed again. "What I did to him? What exactly did I do to him, sweetie? All I did was give him what he wanted; he said 'yes', every time."

"Only because you didn't give him a choice," Stiles argued. "He was sixteen. He didn't _know_ what he wanted!"

People were starting to pay attention to them now, but Kate didn't seem to care. She just smirked at Stiles, like she knew something that he didn't. Given all of the issues and the secrets that Derek still had, she probably did. "Oh, he knew," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "He knew exactly what he wanted—didn't you, Puppy? And even though it was _sick_ , and _disgusting_ , I gave it to him _every time he asked_." Kate's words were painting a picture for Stiles that chilled him to the bone, and all of a sudden he became abruptly aware that Derek was shaking beside him. They needed to leave, now, but Kate was still talking. "Does he ask you for it? Does he _dare_? Or does he know that no one can make him feel it quite like I could?"

"He doesn't ask me for it," Stiles answered honestly, thinking fast. "But that isn't because you were good at it; it's because you were really,  _really_ bad. And when he does ask me for it? I'll give it to him, no hesitation, because  _nothing_ about him could ever be sick or disgusting. He's not the one who used to get his kicks by torturing a _child_."

Derek really, _really_ didn't like the look on Kate's face—and he didn't like the people who were watching them, either. He felt antsy, like his skin was two sizes too small. He needed to get out, _now_. But Derek couldn't just leave Stiles to fend for himself against Kate—not that he didn't believe Stiles couldn't handle himself. Derek moved closer to Stiles, wrapping an arm around his waist—though whether it was to support Stiles or himself, he didn't know. "Babe, people are staring."

Stiles took the prompt for what it was and slid his hand over Derek's where it rested on his hip, squeezing gently. Kate still hadn't said anything, but she looked  _furious_ , and they couldn't stick around for whatever shitstorm she was about to unleash. "Come on, Derek," he said softly, holding her gaze. "We have better things to do than stand here and listen to her poison." Stiles moved to walk around her, but she stepped in front of them, her mouth open to say something else. Stiles didn't have time for it. He shouldered past her, and when she stumbled back, the people behind her got out of the way so that she fell on her ass with a hard _thump_. Stiles didn't so much as spare her a glance as he led Derek out of the theatre.

***

Derek didn't talk or stop touching Stiles, not until they'd finally arrived back at the apartment. Then Derek just walked over to the couch and collapsed heavily on it. "Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Stiles wanted to go to him, but he didn't know if Derek would like that. This uncertainty seemed to be a recurring theme, these days. Instead, he hovered awkwardly beside the loveseat, resolved to wait until he was given some sort of clue. "Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.

Derek shook his head. "No," he said frankly, looking up at Stiles and holding out a hand, silently asking for comfort. "I'm not okay."

Stiles took the offered hand and let Derek pull him down onto the sofa, curling up beside him with his head on Derek's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his gaze on their fingers as he twined them together. "For causing a scene. I was just so angry; I didn't want her to hurt you again."

Derek shook his head. "Don't apologize," he whispered. "I understand." He felt calmer with Stiles closer to him, and he rubbed his thumb over the back of Stiles's hand.

Stiles gave Derek's hand a grateful squeeze, and sighed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Derek shrugged. "I don't really know what to say," he confessed quietly. "I never thought I'd see her again."

"Hopefully this is the last time," Stiles murmured. "If she keeps popping up, though, we can take steps to make her stay away. You could get another restraining order, or I could punch her in the face..."

That earned a small chuckle. "The point is to keep her away from me, not get you arrested," he murmured, a small smile on his face. "But yeah, I'm definitely going to get the restraining order renewed, even if we don't ever see her again."

"Good." Stiles sighed, letting them lapse into silence for a little while. It wasn't long before he had to say something else, though. "You know it wasn't true, right? All those things she said?"

Derek tensed, but then made himself relax—this was Stiles he was talking to. He could trust Stiles. "Yeah," he sighed. "Doesn't mean it doesn't affect me, though."

"I get that. But you're not disgusting, Derek. There's nothing wrong with you."

Derek shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe," he muttered.

"What?" Stiles tilted his head back so that he could look Derek in the eye. "What does that mean?"

"Means you don't know everything," Derek answered, but he wasn't looking at Stiles, instead focusing on their joined hands.

Stiles sighed. "I don't need to know everything to know that you're not disgusting, Derek," he said softly. "But can you tell me anyway, so I can prove it to you?"

Derek hesitated, considering. "There was one kink she made fun of me for," he started, his voice quiet. "More than some others. I think that's why she made me do it so much, even when I didn't particularly want to. She got off on the humiliation."

"Well, that was wrong of her," Stiles said. "But just because she behaved like that, it doesn't mean the kink is wrong. It doesn't mean _you're_ wrong."

"Maybe not, but the kink is... really, really unusual," Derek added. "I thought I could trust her, but—she started punishing me, anytime I brought it up."

"It's okay," Stiles murmured, squeezing Derek's hand again. "You can tell me."

Derek worried his lower lip. "Remember what I asked you not to call me?" he said finally.

"Yeah..." Stiles coaxed.

Derek took a deep breath. "Puppy play," he whispered, so quietly that it was almost inaudible.

A small smile quirked Stiles' lips. He'd known, of course—how could he not, especially after what Kate had said that afternoon?—but he'd needed to hear Derek say it. Stiles sat up, careful not to let go of Derek's hand, and kissed him softly on the mouth. "I'm so proud of you for telling me," he said. "And now I can honestly tell you: there is nothing wrong with you."

Derek looked at Stiles, then, feeling hopeful. "You really think that?"

"I know it," Stiles told him.

Derek let a small smile curve his lips then. "I love you," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss Stiles. 

Stiles let out a soft, surprised sound that was quickly muffled by Derek's lips, and then he lost himself to their kiss, his eyes fluttering closed with a sigh of pleasure. It was tender, and sweet, and unlike any kiss they'd shared before, and it was perfect. So perfect that it completely wiped Stiles' mind blank. When they finally broke apart, he ached with how badly he wanted to hear those words again, but when he tried to ask, what came out was, "What did you say?"

Derek frowned, confused by Stiles's question, until he realized what he had said. _Shit._ He hadn't meant to say that—he'd _meant_ to say, "Thank you." He swallowed, looking at Stiles nervously, hoping and praying that this wasn't going to blow up in his face. "I said, 'I love you.'"

A smile brighter than the sun broke out on Stiles' face. "I thought so," he said, kissing Derek again. "God, Der, I love you, too."

Derek was stunned; when Stiles pulled back, all Derek could do was look at him in shock. "You do?" he asked, and he was vaguely embarrassed by how confused, lost, and hopeful those two words sounded.

Stiles' smile softened. "Yeah," he murmured. "I do. Of course I do."

Derek smiled back before kissing Stiles gently. "I love you," he repeated, happy to be able to say the words without fear.

Stiles was just as happy to hear them, and he pressed himself into Derek's arms, needing to be close. "I'm so lucky," he whispered.

"How so?" Derek asked, winding his arms around Stiles, needing the physical contact just as much.

Stiles huffed a soft laugh. "Are you kidding me?" he asked. "I've hit the jackpot. Back when we first met you didn't even want to play with me more than once, and now you love me? Someone upstairs is smiling on me, man, I swear."

Derek chuckled. "Good point," he admitted. "Guess you've grown on me."

"Like a fungus," Stiles agreed cheerfully. "A really cute fungus that you love a lot."

"For some reason," Derek agreed, rolling his eyes. But his voice was fond.

"Come on," Stiles said, getting to his feet and taking Derek's hand to pull him up. "We're going to bed, and we're not going to move until one of us has to pee really bad. I think we've earned it."

"We have," Derek agreed, following Stiles without untangling their fingers. "We really have."

***

A week later, Stiles' life was pretty much perfect. School was going well, Scott had finally stopped asking awkward questions he really didn't want the answers to, and things with Derek were awesome. Not a lot had changed since their big declaration—Derek still liked to tie Stiles to the bed and make him scream; Stiles still liked to work Derek over until he sobbed as he shook apart and then take his time putting him back together again—but things were definitely different. And  _better_. In just that one week, which they'd spent together, they'd held hands at the dinner table on five occasions; they'd lost themselves just making out on the couch for hours three times; and they'd had sex of the more vanilla variety twice— _in Derek's bed_. Stiles knew this, because he'd been keeping track.

The latter was possibly the biggest change, and certainly the most exciting. They slept in Derek's bed quite a lot, but before, when their relationship had been all about the contract, Derek had refused to entertain any sexual advances except in the spare room or in the shower. Kinky sex was still designated to those places, and for good reasons, but normal sex—Stiles had taken to tentatively calling it _lovemaking_ in his head - was now allowed to happen in the master bedroom. Stiles still got a little thrill whenever he remembered that Derek had said, right back when they'd signed their first contract, that his room was off-limits so that they could differentiate between what was kink and what was _real_. This new re-evaluation of their boundaries meant that Derek believed in them enough to let that control slip.

But exciting as their newfound intimacy was, there was still something missing. Derek was happy, Stiles knew that, but he seemed withdrawn, distant, even in their scenes together. _Especially_ in the scenes in which Stiles took control. It wasn't the same as the second time they'd tried it, when Derek had been subjecting himself to things he didn't want because he thought Stiles wanted them; it was more like he just wanted something... more. And Stiles thought he could make a pretty good guess at what that something was.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Stiles was planning to go back to the apartment he shared with Scott tomorrow, so it seemed like the perfect time to bring it up. If Derek needed space, Stiles would be able to give it to him, and if not then they could always arrange to extend his stay. Stiles was currently sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through tumblr on his laptop. He'd finished all of his work about an hour ago, but he was stalling the conversation he'd decided to instigate while he tried to work out how best to bring it up. It took another twenty minutes for it to register that the answer was staring him in the face. Feeling his heart start to pound, Stiles typed a couple of words into the tag search at the top of the screen, and found exactly what he needed. Clicking quickly onto another tab, he twisted in his seat to face the doorway. "Derek! Can you come in here, please?"

It took Derek a moment to surface from the book he'd been reading. He marked his page and set it down before coming into the kitchen and looking at Stiles curiously. "What do you need, babe?"

"I want to show you something," Stiles said, smiling softly as he gestured for Derek to join him in front of the laptop. "Don't freak out, okay? Just, keep an open mind." Once he was sure he had Derek's attention, he clicked back onto tumblr, and revealed the puppy play tag.

Derek wasn't _freaking out_ , per se—but he wasn't exactly the epitome of "cool and collected," either. He watched the images scroll by on the screen, frozen to the spot. "What—Why?" he finally managed to ask, and he was proud of how steady his voice came out. "Why did you want to show me this?"

"Because." Stiles nodded to the most prominent image currently on the screen, of a man crawling across the floor to his mistress; he was wearing leather mits on his hands, a leather hood with pointed ears and a muzzle, a heavy metal collar and a butt plug that looked like a tail. In the picture beside that one, a woman knelt at the feet of another, wearing a headband with fluffy pink ears attached and a similar plug with a matching fluffy tail. "I wanted you to see that other people like it, too. Some people prefer to do it at its bare minimum, and others like to take it to its extreme. I don't know where you fall on that spectrum, but my point is, you're not alone. There's a whole community full of people who are into all kinds of pet play, not just puppies but kittens and bunnies and ponies and God only knows what else, and it's not freaky or sick or disgusting, it's just another kink. There's nothing wrong with any of them—there's nothing wrong with _you_."

Derek tentatively stepped closer so he could get a better look. "I always knew there were others who liked it," he murmured. "Just—never thought there were this many."

"Trust me, there are plenty," Stiles said confidently. He stood up and grasped Derek's shoulders, guiding him into the chair in front of the laptop. "Have a poke around, okay? There's some text posts in there from people talking about their own experiences with this kind of play, and I'll bet you can find whole blogs dedicated to it. You've just got to look." Derek was already riveted, so Stiles leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I'm gonna go for a shower. I won't be long."

Derek made a vague noise of acknowledgment before focusing on the computer screen once more. By the time Stiles was done with his shower, Derek had come to a conclusion. "I'm not ready to really try it," he started when Stiles came back into the kitchen, "but maybe we could work up to it?"

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, sliding his arms around Derek's shoulders from behind and leaning down so he could see the screen. "What did you have in mind?"

Derek shrugged. "I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "I just know that I want to try to work up to doing it myself—I used to enjoy it, before Kate. And they look like they're enjoying it, too." As he spoke those last words, Derek gestured to the computer screen.

"Okay," Stiles said easily, moving to sit in another chair and take Derek's hand. "Why don't you tell me what your experience of it was like before Kate?"

Derek turned his hand so he could lace their fingers together. "I didn't do a lot," he started. "Just the very basic stuff. Crawling on all fours, being treated like a pet, earning treats. I wanted to do more, but could never really bring myself to ask my partner for it. It just seemed like it was too big."

Stiles nodded slowly, understanding, encouraging. "And then Kate came along."

Derek nodded in agreement. "And then Kate came along," he said softly. "She seemed nice, at first, but then—She was subtle."

Stiles didn't think Kate had seemed very subtle when he'd met her, but then again, she'd had so much more to gain by earning Derek's trust back then. "So you told her about your kink," he prompted gently.

Derek nodded. "Yeah. Told her I hadn't gone very far, but I wanted to try some more. She seemed to be just as into it as I was, but like I said, she was subtle. She'd just... she was degrading. But she was cunning about it." He really didn't like talking about his time with Kate, but he supposed it was necessary.

Stiles raised Derek's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. "I'll never do that to you," he murmured. "And when you're ready to try, I'll prove it."

Derek smiled, leaning in for a kiss. "Thank you," he murmured.

***

They talked for a little while longer, carefully steering clear of any reference to Kate, before abandoning the topic for calmer waters. Stiles could tell that Derek was still thinking about it, though, and when he crawled into bed that night he figured it was safe to bring it up again. "So... How would you feel about introducing some elements of puppy play into our scenes?" he asked, watching Derek carefully.

Derek took his time thinking about his answer. "Just small stuff?" he asked for clarification.

Stiles nodded. "We'll only do as much as you feel comfortable with."

Derek was quiet for another moment. "Okay," he said softly. "I'd like that."

Stiles grinned, and wiggled into the middle of the bed so that he could sling an arm over Derek's waist and give him a kiss. "So would I," he promised. "Now go to sleep."

Derek smiled, cuddling closer to Stiles. "Night," he murmured. "Love you."

He was asleep before he could hear Stiles return the sentiment.

***

Over the next few weeks, Derek and Stiles had several more scenes where Derek was subbing—in each, Stiles was careful to make sure that Derek was okay with him bringing up the puppy play, and he only proceeded with Derek's permission. That was the trick—with each scene they completed, Derek found himself more and more eager for when Stiles would bring up the puppy play. He still couldn't bring himself to mention it, but he knew that was okay; he would, one day.

It was almost three weeks after the first time Derek saw the tumblr tag—he and Stiles had browsed through it together a few more times—when Scott and Danny invited them for a night out at a local club—a normal one, not one like where Stiles and Derek had met. Allison would also be coming, and knowing Danny, he'd find someone to fawn over him within the first ten minutes, so it would turn into more of a triple date than anything else. They agreed, and the four of them met up at the club, waiting outside for Allison. 

"Where is Allison, again?" Derek asked Scott, his arm around Stiles's waist possessively—Stiles had decided to wear the outfit he'd worn the very first time he and Derek had met, and it was drawing quite a lot of attention.

"Said she had some family matter or something," Scott answered. "But she should be here soon."

They waited outside for another ten minutes before deciding that it was too cold to do so any longer. Scott, because he was whipped, opted to stay outside while the others went in, and it was no surprise when Danny got whisked onto the dance floor by some muscly stranger within seconds. The stranger's friend tried to make a move on Stiles, but he just grabbed Derek's hand and led him to the bar, leaving absolutely no room for misunderstandings about who he was here with. They were waiting for their drinks when Scott and Allison appeared at Derek's elbow, Allison looking vaguely harassed.

"I'm so sorry!" she yelled over the pounding music. "My aunt insisted on coming!"

"Your what?" Stiles yelled back, leaning closer.

"My aunt!"

"Why would your _aunt_ —?" But no further explanation was required, because there was suddenly a very feminine hand on Derek's shoulder, and when both he and Stiles turned to look, they came face to face with Kate.

Derek jerked back, Kate's nails digging into his shoulder and raking across it as he did so. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded angrily.

"I'm here with my niece, of course," Kate answered innocently. "When Allison told me the names of her friends, I couldn't resist coming to say hi."

"What, you know each other?" Allison interjected, but she was ignored.

"I've gotta admit," Kate continued, gesturing to Stiles. "I'm surprised this one hasn't kicked you to the curb yet. How long do you think you've got left, Derek?"

"Longer than you've got here," Derek snarled. It was only Stiles's hand in his that was giving him the courage to speak like this—that, and his anger at just how _badly_ he now knew she'd treated him, now that he knew the experience of subbing that she'd robbed him of. "I've got a restraining order against you, Argent. As I was here first, you need to leave."

"A _restraining order_?!" Allison demanded, staring at her aunt.

Kate just laughed. "Please. You really think that's gonna scare me away? An idle threat?"

"Who says it's idle?" Stiles asked, pulling out his phone. "I can call the cops right now, and they'll come and arrest you."

Scott finally chimed in. "What's going on?" he asked, bewildered at all of the hostility. 

"Kate was just about to leave—either by herself or by police escort," Derek answered, staring Kate dead in the eye.

Kate's eyes narrowed menacingly, but it was clear that she knew she was beaten. "Fine," she snarled. "But don't think this is the last you'll see of me, Der-bear. You'll come crawling when the boy here gets tired of his new pet. Allison, I'll see you at home."

Stiles didn't take his eyes off her until she left the club.

Derek managed to hold himself up until the doors had closed behind her; then he collapsed into the nearest available bar stool. "Jesus," he muttered. "I'm glad she left and didn't make us actually call the cops."

Stiles was already at his side, arms wrapped around him, offering protection and comfort. "Do you wanna go home?" he asked.

Derek shook his head. "No, I'm good to stay," he answered.

Stiles nodded and kissed Derek. "Okay. I'll go find our drinks; I think we need them."

Derek nodded, offering a grateful smile. "Thanks, babe." After Stiles walked off, there was an awkward silence at their portion of the bar. 

"So..." Scott started. "Anyone wanna explain what just happened? And maybe why you've got a restraining order against Allison's aunt?"

Derek sighed. "Abusive ex-Domme," he said shortly. "She really fucked me up."

"What?" Allison scoffed, incredulous. "Kate isn't in the scene."

"Trust me," Stiles said, appearing behind her and moving to Derek's side to give him a glass. "That's for a very good reason. She's been blacklisted by all the fetish clubs in New York."

Allison looked shocked, but it was clear that she believed them. She turned to Derek, her eyes wide. "I'm so sorry for bringing her here. I swear I didn't know."

Derek took the drink from Stiles with a grateful smile. "Thanks, babe." To Allison, he added, "It's fine; you couldn't have known. It's not something I talk about a lot."

"I'm gonna kick her out of my apartment tomorrow," Allison promised. "She won't bother you again."

Derek offered Allison a small smile. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Stiles downed the rest of his drink, which was bright pink and had a little umbrella in it, and grabbed Derek's hand. "Come on. We're gonna dance."

Derek laughed, quickly finishing his own drink before following Stiles. "All right, all right, geeze," he chuckled. As soon as they got onto the dance floor, Derek laid his hands possessively over Stiles's waist, turning him so that Stiles's back was to Derek's front. "Look at all those guys staring at you," he murmured, leaning closer so he could nibble on Stiles's ear. "Remember how they all stared at you in the club where we met?"

"I remember," Stiles answered, dropping his head back onto Derek's shoulder. "Thought I was gonna get eaten alive. But I didn't want any of them. Just wanted you."

Derek smiled. "Even before you met me, huh?" he teased lightly, catching the eye of one guy who was staring at them and lightly scraping his teeth down the side of Stiles's neck to nip at the join of his neck and shoulder.

Stiles hissed and his hips jerked out of their rhythm, causing his ass to press back against Derek's crotch. _Shit_. He was hard. "...Uh-huh," Stiles answered, somewhat belatedly. "Danny told me about you, you know that. But especially after that first time... Knew I couldn't give you up."

Derek hummed affirmatively, smirking when the guy who'd been staring at them flushed and looked away, a discernible bulge in the front of his pants. "I almost didn't want you to come back, you know," he said conversationally, wrapping his arms more solidly around Stiles. "Knew I wouldn't be able to resist you for long."

"Are you glad I did?" Stiles asked, flinging an arm back to drape around Derek's neck as he ground against him, completely oblivious to everyone else around them. "Or would you rather be in your room at the club, fucking a different guy every night?"

Derek chuckled. "Why would I want that, when I can fuck the guy I love every night?" he answered, pulling Stiles back into him.

"Or be fucked by him?" Stiles suggested lightly, half hoping that Derek wouldn't hear.

"One day," Derek agreed. Stiles's words didn't make him anxious, not like they would have done even two months ago; instead, they only made him feel content, and more than a bit excited.

Stiles grinned, twisting in Derek's arms and pulling him into a hard kiss. "I love you," he murmured when they broke apart, breathing the words against Derek's lips.

Derek smiled back. "Love you, too," he whispered before kissing Stiles again.

***

As promised, Allison had kicked Kate out of her apartment; according to Allison, Kate had left the state, and hadn't been heard from since. As the woman hadn't shown up anywhere where Stiles, Derek, or any of their friends could have seen her, they put her from their minds. Derek and Stiles officially moved in together after Stiles's last classes were completed for the year; Scott complained, but only until Stiles pointed out that now he could ask Allison to move in with him. Derek continued to experiment with subbing for Stiles, and he had fewer and fewer inhibitions the more they worked together. The time spent in scenes was evenly split between who subbed, and more and more often, Derek and Stiles just made love for the pleasure of it, not for the purpose of doing a scene.

About three months after they moved in together, Derek decided he wanted to try a scene with actual puppy play. Up until this point, he and Stiles had only talked about doing it, both in and out of scenes. This would be the first time either of them had seriously brought up actually doing this scene. Derek was waiting for Stiles on the couch—he'd debated waiting beside the couch, on his knees, but decided against it; he didn't feel like that would be the best way to start this conversation off. Stiles should be home any minute from his lunch date with Danny and Scott.

When Stiles walked in the door, Derek turned to face him. "Hey, Stiles. Can we talk?"

"Of course," Stiles said easily, smiling as he hung up his jacket and toed off his shoes before crossing to sit beside Derek on the sofa. Derek didn't seem tense or upset, so it was nothing at all to lean in and give him a kiss. "What's on your mind?"

Derek returned the kiss readily; when they pulled apart, he said, "I want to try puppy play."

Stiles sat back, searching Derek's face. "Like... you want to include more of it in our scenes?" he asked slowly.

Derek nodded. "In a way, yeah. I want—I want to try a puppy play scene."

Stiles was surprised, but definitely pleased. He grinned. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay. I want that, too."

Derek smiled, relieved. He hadn't seriously thought Stiles would turn this down, but it was still nice to be reminded of exactly how lucky Derek was, that he had a partner he trusted enough to even think about doing a scene like that with. "Can we do it tonight? I've got dinner cooking in the slow cooker, but it's pot roast, so it'll need to be watched, and the carrots and potatoes need to be added still."

Stiles nodded. "Sure. No need to rush into it. Besides, I'm starving."

Derek chuckled. "Didn't get enough at lunch?" he teased. "Or were you too busy running your mouth?"

Stiles shrugged. "I'm always hungry," he said, grinning. "You know that."

Derek rolled his eyes, getting to his feet with a quick kiss to Stiles's cheek. "You'd think I would, with how long we've been together," he called over his shoulder as he headed into the kitchen. 

Stiles just laughed and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that he'd really lucked out with Derek.

***

After dinner, Derek and Stiles spent some time just cuddling on the couch before Derek pulled back to look at Stiles. "I want to try now," he said quietly. He was nervous, but more than that, he was excited; he really wanted to do this scene.

"Okay," Stiles said, standing up and offering Derek his hand. "Let's go into the spare room."

Derek took Stiles's hand readily, following the younger man into the spare bedroom. Once they were in there, Derek turned to Stiles. "I just want a basic scene," he said quietly, making sure to look Stiles in the eye as he did so. 

Stiles nodded. "Okay. You know what to do."

Derek nodded and stripped quickly; once he was completely naked, he lowered himself to his knees, and then to all fours, just the way he and Stiles had discussed when they'd talked about doing this scene in the past. He leaned back so his weight was on his haunches and looked up at Stiles, tilting his head slightly, waiting for the next command. They'd agreed that Derek, unless voicing a concern or safewording, wouldn't talk. 

Stiles grinned, pleased. "Good boy," he praised, reaching out to scrub his fingers affectionately through Derek's hair. "Such a good boy. You wanna play, pup?"

Derek felt a thread of warmth curl low in his stomach, and he didn't nod—nodding was a human thing to do—but he did push against Stiles's hand before turning his head to lick playfully at Stiles's wrist.

Stiles laughed, not at all disgusted the way he would be with a real dog, and nudged Derek out of the way so that he could stand. "Well, let's see what we've got," he said, crossing to their toy chest and opening it up. He bypassed all of their sex toys without thought, instead picking out a small box that he'd put in there a few weeks ago. Inside were a few toys, including a plushy purple sheep with rope for legs and a squeaker in its belly. Stiles squeezed it hopefully, watching Derek's face.

Derek considered Stiles for a moment before crawling forward and carefully taking one end of the sheep's rope in his mouth and tugging gently, looking up at Stiles hopefully, letting his hips sway in a rough imitation of a wagging tail.

"Nuh-uh," Stiles admonished, pulling so that the rope fell out of Derek's mouth but still dangled close by. He squeezed the toy again. "If you want if, you're gonna have to work for it, pup."

Derek let out a soft whine, but settled back, watching Stiles attentively, waiting for the next instruction.

Stiles scrutinised Derek's face, but he saw no real distress there, just disappointment at not getting what he wanted. It seemed like it would be safe to improvise; put Derek through his paces a little. Stiles held out his free hand. "Paw." Derek hesitated only a second before carefully raising one hand and laying it in Stiles's. Stiles beamed and gave Derek's fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing him. They quickly cycled through a few other commands, including 'sit', 'lay down' and 'stay'. It was after the latter that Stiles tossed the sheep onto the bed, and he felt a warm swell of pride as he watched Derek's gaze follow its arc through the air. He was doing so well. "Stay," Stiles warned again, just because he could, and then: "Okay, go get it!"

Derek let out a soft _woof_ , enjoying himself, before scrambling after the toy and up onto the bed. He turned back around to face Stiles, the toy in his mouth. He was aware that his cock was a heavy weight between his legs, but he ignored it. This was nothing like anything he'd ever done with Kate—this was _fun._

Still grinning like an idiot, Stiles followed Derek onto the bed and engaged in a game of tug-of-war with him. He was also aware of Derek's arousal, but was content to let him set his own pace. Seeing Derek enjoying himself like this was more than enough for Stiles, should Derek choose not to include a sexual aspect in the scene.

Derek was sporting a grin to match Stiles's, and when he was tired of playing tug-of-war, he dropped his end of the rope and crawled closer to Stiles, bumping his head against Stiles arm gently before attempting to maneuver himself so that Stiles's arm was around him.

Stiles complied happily, and pressed his face into Derek's hair. "Good boy," he murmured, stroking a hand down Derek's back. "Being _so_ good. Haven't even tried to mark your territory on our furniture yet."

Derek huffed indignantly; as if he'd try something like that. He had more dignity than that. He arched into Stiles's touch, burying his face in the crook of Stiles's neck for a moment before shifting so he was sitting on his ass, and brought his arms up to wrap around Stiles's waist. "I'm done for now," he murmured. He felt like now was a good place to end this scene—he didn't quite feel comfortable with adding sex just yet.

Stiles smiled and nodded, whispering their closing line. "How do you feel?" he asked after a moment, kicking the sheep off the bed. It landed on the floor with a quiet _squeak_.

Derek smiled, not moving his face from where it was pressed against Stiles's skin. "I feel good. Satisfied," he murmured, just loud enough to hear.

"Good," Stiles said, smiling softly. "You were so amazing, Derek. I'm really proud of you."

Derek pulled back to kiss Stiles quickly. "Thanks," he said, almost shyly even as the praise seemed to settle in his bones as a pleasant warmth.

"Do you need anything?" Stiles asked, his gaze fond as he ran his fingers through Derek's hair.

Derek considered the question for a moment. "Just this," he answered, leaning against Stiles again. "Just this."

***

The next year flew by. They had their ups and downs, at home as well as with friends and school, but they refused to be beaten by anything—even Stiles' father, who had been in the middle of cleaning his guns when Stiles first brought Derek over to visit. As it turned out, the sheriff loved Derek, and the three of them had spent Thanksgiving and Christmas together. Stiles was still a little shellshocked by how well Derek got on with his father.

In the privacy of their home, they kept up the BDSM lifestyle, and Derek blossomed with Stiles by his side. Puppy play had become a big part of their lives, especially once Derek introduced sex to those scenes. Stiles would never forget the first time Derek made him come just by lapping eagerly at his cock.

There were still bad days, times when something would remind Derek of Kate and he had to safeword out, but even so, the dynamics of their relationship had shifted so that Stiles hardly ever took on the submissive role in their scenes anymore. He liked it that way, though. Derek was beautiful when he submitted to Stiles, open and trusting and just perfect, and making love in their own bed was pretty awesome, too. Stiles didn't regret the way he'd come into Derek's life, but he was incredibly grateful for all of the ways they'd grown since then.

Which was exactly why, on the anniversary of their first successful puppy play scene, Stiles pulled Derek into the spare room and sat him down on the bed. "I have something for you," he began, needlessly holding up the box in his hand. "And you don't have to accept it if you don't want to, but... Derek, you've come so far, and I know you still have a ways to go, but I'm just so fucking proud of you, and I think you're ready." Taking a deep breath, he pressed the box into Derek's grip and waited.

Derek took the box and carefully opened it; inside was a simple leather collar, the name _Derek_ stitched into the leather in an elegant script. Derek blinked, a bit surprised, and looked up at Stiles. "You bought me a collar?" he asked quietly, his voice betraying his surprise.

Stiles flushed and ducked his head. "Yeah..." he said to his knees. "I know that it's a big deal for a sub, a—a puppy to accept a collar. It's just that we've had a really great year and I think you're amazing and I wanted to do something to show you that. But if you're not ready, then that's fine. Just say the word and it's gone."

Derek shook his head. "No, it's fine, I just—wasn't expecting it." He picked the collar up and held it out to Stiles. "Put it on me, please?"

Stiles took the collar, but he hesitated, searching Derek's face. "Are you sure?"

Derek nodded, leaning forward to kiss Stiles softly. "I love you, and trust you."

Stiles grinned. "I love you, too," he murmured, and fastened the collar around Derek's neck.

Derek lifted his hand to touch the collar; the weight wasn't oppressive, but rather comfortable, a reminder that he had a master who loved him and cared for him. "Thank you," he said softly.

Stiles took Derek's hand, brushing a soft kiss onto his knuckles. "You're beautiful," he whispered. "My beautiful pup."

***

Having the collar helped immensely with Derek's confidence in scenes over the next few months. He hardly ever even thought of Kate anymore, now, and when he did, it was never during a scene.

Stiles had been acting a bit odd; not _bad_ odd, just... odd. Derek didn't pry, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious. So when Stiles called him into the living room where he had the laptop set up with a Skype call to his father, Derek was even more curious. "Evening, Sheriff," he greeted, sitting down on the couch next to Stiles and wrapping his arm around his partner's waist. "What can I help you with?"

"Actually, son, it's something that we can help you with," the sheriff answered, his gaze flickering to Stiles.

Stiles nodded. "I asked my dad to do some digging, and, well... We found something."

Derek's curiosity only grew. "Found what?"

"I sent a couple of documents over from the station," the sheriff said. "Stiles, if you could..?" Stiles complied and handed Derek the file he'd put together earlier that day. "It's all confidential. No one besides the three of us knows about this, and you can do whatever you want with it."

"Absolutely," Stiles agreed. "There's no pressure at all. I just wanted you to have the option."

Derek took the file and opened it—the first thing he saw was the name _Evan Hale._ He looked up in surprise. "You found Evan?"

Stiles beamed. "Yeah!" he cried. "Yeah, we did! I know how much you miss him and how you hate that you lost him, so I figured, I have the resources—why not exploit them?" The sheriff snorted, the sound crackling through the laptop's speakers. "This way, even if you don't want to do anything more, you at least know he's okay."

Derek stared at the photo attached to the file—it was unmistakably Evan, even though he was several years older in this picture. He blinked, and realized there were tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

Stiles practically melted, and he reached out to pull Derek into his arms. "You're so welcome," he murmured against Derek's temple. "I love you."

Derek fumbled for the 'end call' button, dropping the file onto the keyboard as he leaned into Stiles, letting himself cry. "I'm gonna find him," he said in between hitching breaths. "I'm gonna find my brother."

Stiles held him close, the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair. "I'll support you however I can," he promised.

Derek managed to get himself under control after another few minutes. "God, I love you," he murmured, kissing Stiles quickly. "You're better than anything I ever could have hoped for." Before he'd met Stiles, Derek had barely let himself hope that maybe one day he'd find someone he could trust and be happy with, without the BDSM elements—he may not have had the best introduction into the lifestyle, but Derek had still loved submitting and dominating. He'd never dreamed that he could find someone like Stiles, someone he could love whole-heartedly, and who could love him back just as much; someone who would accept him, and help him through the numerous issues he'd had.

Someone who could teach him the true meaning of submission.

 

 


End file.
